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“Whoa, whoa! Don’t be pushing irl That’s battery, you know”

The others had drifted over Guess they didn’t want toshow

I eyed theirls All white All corn-fed inbreds

The young man peered at me “You’re the one called the cops on us, ain’t ya?”

“Yes, I’m the one,” I said “So why don’t you leaveyour music so loud you wake up people in Philadelphia”

“I didn’t break no rules I can play music as loud as I want”

“Local ordinances say otherwise” Ocean City had noise ordinances because of the overabundance of “June bugs” (the local ter their “school’s out” ritual) and bikers on Harleys with straight pipes

“Well, being that ht to knohat I can and can’t do”

Oh, Christ I’d about had it with the little shit Ja proudly erect

“Your daddy nore the law” Asshole

Once again, Jarabbed at the container Jamila held A brief tussle ensued before he wrested it from her hand

“What’s this?” He tore the box open and tossed it aside The wrapping paper sailed off on the breeze “Well, ain’t that cute?” He surveyed the antique

“Hey, check this out, guys” He waved the music box around

The group drew closer Their eyes were vacant They simply followed the leader

Jeez! What is this? Day of the Dead? The Ocean City Zoade?