Crowded streets, recycled air and the putrid stench of public urination overwhelm Edith's senses as he finally makes his way into downtown Dallas. The sun begins to set beyond the overcast skyline. Last time he was here at night he wound up with a bullet in each kneecap and a noose around his neck, needless to say he wasn't exactly excited to return. Edith's palms begin to seep a watery discharge. It does that when he's anxious, something he can't afford to be right now, not unless he wants to find himself awake in the same stinking gutter for the 7th time over.

Edith begins scanning the wide, crowded streets for any signs of a junkie who may be privy to the nearest drug procurement facilities. A flash of blue and red lights erupt from the vehicle behind him, followed by the crack of a single siren whir. Edith's face turns a bright shade of purple and he shuts his eyes as tight as he can withstand. Right about now would usually be the time he’d make a stupid quip and unleash bloody hell on whoever is interjecting on his unholy scavenger hunt.

"I fucking hate cops." Edith stammers.

But he fucking hates cops.

"This is Dallas PD, pull the vehicle over now." An assertive voice booms from the pursuing vehicle's loudspeaker.

Edith begins to pull the vehicle to the side of the road. As he comes to a stop he feels an overwhelming sensation of asphyxiation moving its way around his throat.

"You're gonna be okay you pussy," he says to himself.

He rubs away the sensation from his throat and readies his gun. A plan hasn't formed quite yet, but the early stages of one swirl in his mind. A domineering knock erupts from the window. The officer is now standing just beyond the glass.

“Roll the window down."

The cop is a behemoth of a man, he looks to be on a healthy diet of vitamin testosterone and creme-filled donuts. Edith looks for something that looks to be capable of rolling glass, of which nothing in the vehicle seems suited.

"I don't know how," Edith replies.

The cop looks at him astonished by either his insolence or ignorance.

"The little switch on the door there sir," he says in bemusement as he points towards the button. Edith lowers the window and as it rolls down a smug grin presents itself on his face. The final piece falls into place in the jigsaw puzzle of his mind.

"Sorry officer, was I ghost riding the whip too hard?"

A term he'd recently learned from a deadbeat whom he'd stolen a gram of coke from the day before.

"No actually, your ‘whip’ here was stolen earlier today... But you wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"Sure wouldn't officer. But the 40 calibers I have aimed at you through my door here might, wanna ask him?"

The officer in a state of panic begins to reach for his sidearm.

"Wouldn't if I were you, not a cop left alive that's pointed a gun at me before."

Technically true, but father time was more so the culprit for that. Edith squints to read the officer's name tag.

"Officer Huitt huh? Why don't you go ahead and stand up against that wall over there."

Officer Huitt obliges and walks to the brick two story bank and places his palms on the wall.

Edith steps out of the car towards the officer and forcefully kicks the bend of his right leg causing him to stumble to his knees.

"What you're doing is real dumb guy, it doesn't have to go this way."

Edith manifests a bone shaking scoff from the deepest region of his worthless depths. Edith then snatches the officer's handcuffs from his belt.

“My way, you mean. No, I think you'll come to understand things pretty much need to go my way,” says Edith as he forcefully grabs the officers arms one by one to fasten them together with the cuffs.

"Stand up!" Edith orders.

The officer struggles to his feet, he hasn't fully recovered from being kicked yet. Edith begins to scavenge the Officer Huitt's person like a child digging through his toy box. He locks onto the officer's Glock. Enamored by the new toy he draws it and compares it to his current piece, he gives them both a hearty sniff and weighs them in his hands. He chooses the Officer's sidearm as the winner. He tosses his original handgun into the gutter behind him. The officer in a struggle to comprehend Edith's antics decides to make his plea.

"Listen, you..."

A moist finger runs along the officer's mouth indicating he should shut his trap.

"In the fucking car, let's go." Edith scolds.

They both squeeze into the SUV and Edith releases a sigh. He looks around the car, then directly into the Officer's eyes.

"This car just isn't me, you know?"

The officer looks at Edith's sports bra, thinking maybe he meant it didn't match his clothing style when in reality it just meant Edith has grown tired of his new toy.

"Let's take yours, keys please?"

Edith makes a ‘gimme gimme’ motion. The officer then gives an ‘are you fucking kidding me, I'm handcuffed’ shrug in return.

"Fine, be a baby, which pocket are they in?" Edith asks.

"Front right pocket."

Edith reaches across the car to retrieve the keys and opens the door for the officer. They both take their exit from the SUV to whom Edith blows a kiss to on their way to the police car. The cop car smells of fast food and dried sweat, an aroma Edith had grown accustomed to and grew to enjoy over the past week. Edith aims a twisted smile towards Officer Huitt and looks him up and down.

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"Well.... That was fun eh?" Edith asks genuinely.

"Alright, what's your gameplan here tough guy?" The officer snarls back.

Edith, realizes now there will be very minimal arousing banter with his current captive.

"Give me your hat." Edith says.

The officer returns the same shrug indicating he in fact cannot hand something over without his hands. Edith who's patience is now at zero, slowly unfurls his hand indicating the officer better do as he says… or else. Officer Huitt had met enough lunatics in his day to know better than to press his luck any further and begins shaking the hat off of his head into Edith's hand. Edith places the officer’s hat on his head and straightens it perfectly atop his head with the assistance of the rear-view mirror, a smile now returning to his face.

"Listen I need to know what your plan is here, what you're going to do with me? I have a wife and kid at home." The officer pleads.

Edith didn't listen, or he pretended not to. He buckles the officer's seatbelt and then his own.

"Alright, all set. Let's go get some meth, shall we?"

"You know what, we just got a fresh batch at the station, why don't we just head there?" the officer offers, half-joking.

"You know what… Officer Huitt doesn't really work for me, I'm gonna call you Wet Willy.”

Willy returns a confused glance.

"You know, because you're sweaty..."

Willy is slowly getting the hang of ignoring Edith's antagonization.

"Whatever, lead me to the nearest drug den." Edith states plainly and whips the car into drive.

"Hmm, well there's a place on the north side of town my team was going to check into later this week."

They ride down the empty streets of downtown Dallas, it's quiet even for a Wednesday night. The roads look like checkerboards, pitch black with patches of light every so often from the streetlights above. Edith may not like cops, but his quiet drive and lack of foreign substances in his

bloodstream was leaving him quite anxious previously.

"Wanna listen to some music?" Edith asks.

Willy shrugs. Edith turns on the radio, which in return emits a vile ruckus. A song, if you can call it that. It sounds like a man gurgling stomach bile and spitting it into a bucket, while another man sings melodically under his breath. Both Edith and Willy compulsively retch. Edith quickly shuts off the radio.

"Kids these days man, the shit they listen to." Willy says disappointedly.

"I'm not really up on current music, but if this is what's popular I was right to want to get the fuck out of here asap." Edith says annoyedly, like the music had assaulted him.

"Check the glove box" Says Willy, letting out a sly smile.

"That where you keep the weed?"

"Next best thing." Willy states matter of factly.

Edith intrigued, opens the glovebox which is overflowing with CD cases of various metal CDs, Dio, Metallica, Antrax, Judas Priest.

"Metal, the real shit. None of that screamo shit kids call metal now." Willy says proudly.

"Never heard of it,” Edith says curiously. "What's it like?"

"Heaven."

"Well I sure as fuck hope not,” Edith flips through the CDs admiring the outlandish artwork.

"Which one you thinking?"

"Well if it's your first time we've gotta go with Slayer." Willy says almost excitedly, almost as if he'd forgotten he's been taken hostage.

Edith pulls a CD from its ghoulish case and inserts it into the center console. A voracious racket slowly amps from the speakers, slapping bass, guitars rupturing the soundwaves around him. A tingling erupts through Edith's whole body towards a focal point in his sweating ball sack. a feeling he craved and could only ever so often feel, be it through means of violence or copious drug use.

"I don't know what part of heaven you found yourself in, but I never heard something as beautiful as this in that shithole." Edith states, oblivious to the confused gaze returned by Willy.

They both enjoy the music as they drive, every so often performing underplayed headbanging motions, but catching themselves before getting too out of hand.

"So where's this place at, we've been going north forever."

"We're almost there, just another mile or two down the road." Willy says as he struggles to get comfortable with his arms nestled behind his back.

"So what's the plan here, you just going to drive up to the front door in a police vehicle, walk up and ask to buy some drugs?"

"Oh fuck, that's a good idea, you have some money?" Edith asks. "I was just gonna kill em'."

"So what, you’re some kind of badass or something?”

"Saying shit like that's gonna get you a cock across the mouth.” Edith replies deadpan. "Where's this place at?"

Willy gulps, tasting the seriousness in Edith's voice. He points to a 10-or-so story building to the right side of the road.

"They own the condo on the top floor, the sarge says they're manufacturing some new strain of meth or something up there. Some fucked up shit from what I've heard."

Edith, not listening at all slams the car in park halfway atop the curb. He then begins an attempt to rip the stereo system from the console, ripping at the plastic and punching it as it gives him trouble.

"What the fuck are you doing to my dash?" Willy asks with concern.

"I want to take the metal with me." Edith states. “Jesus man, check my bag in the back, there's an ipod.”

"That some sort of sword?" Edith asks, getting annoyed.

"It's an umm... a mobile metal player."

Edith astonished, opens the window to the backseat and squeezes a hefty gym bag through it. He opens the bag and neatly placed on top is an ipod classic with a pair of earbuds rolled tightly around it.

"You just pick a song with the buttons and put the buds in your ears."

Edith fumbles with it clumsily scrolling through an endless list of band names.

“This sounds like a Megadeth job, go to M, it's alphabetical."

"Thanks." Edith says as he begins to get out of the car while searching for the M's on the iPod. Willy's eyes focus on the CV radio at his dash, but Edith catches his gaze. Edith tears the entire CV radio from the dash and tosses it into the street behind him.

"Give me your phone." Edith states.

Willy returns a ‘stop asking me to do shit with my hands tied behind my back’ look. Edith reaches across the car, grabs Willy's cell phone and places it into his front jacket pocket. Willy begins to speak, but Edith slams the door in his face in an effort to avoid further delay, then quickly locks the door with the key.

Time to fuck some ass.

Edith presses play on the device, the music floods his ears and spreads an almost erotic energy through his frame, he was indeed ready to fuck some ass. He approaches the building, not exactly a new construction, but not the rundown drug den he was expecting when he initially made his request. There is no security at the front door, so he walks right in. He's presented with a set of elevators on both his right and his left. Assuming there is no right or wrong decision here, he struts over to the elevator doors to his left and presses the up arrow, the closest elevator shows as currently being on the 6th floor, but with a new song introducing itself to him every couple of minutes he doesn't mind waiting. He's content listening to the current track. The singer belts a line in the song more passionately than the ones before it, it resonates with him for a reason of which he’s unsure.

The elevator dings and opens, it's empty and way too bright, as if the creator had some sort of LED quota he had to fill for the construction of the building. Edith struts in, slowly becoming a bobblehead, lost in the music. He presses the button for floor 11, which is the highest number on the list and closes his eyes. He imagines himself being engulfed in flames, a massive vagina concealed in an unruly mane of fire and glitter engulfs him. It eats him alive then turns into some sort of flying donut made of metal, but still frosted and sprinkle topped. It floats into the atmosphere and the Earth becomes but a speck in the distance. As the Earth disappears, so does the music. Once he reaches the deepest depths of space the donut purges him, he’s coated in a gooey discharge and sitting stagnant in space, just ahead of him opens a swirling vortex. He reaches towards the opening, knowing it leads him somewhere he dearly wants to go, but he's unsure where. He doesn't move, he's stuck there floating in the deep vacuum of space and his throat tightens.

Is this a dream?

He can't open his eyes, then realizes he can't breathe which would have made sense if he'd really been transported to space. He begins rubbing his neck, gasping for air. The elevator dings. His eyes open and the music returns. The elevator doors slide open to a long hallway and at the end sits a man upon a stool. The man has a cigar in his mouth and a crisp pastel pink cowboy hat atop his head.

"Time to pop this faggot's cherry." Edith states, feeling a bit weird about his choice of words, remembering something on TV about faggot no longer being okay to say.