Josh stared with emptiness into the rumpled

Josh stared with emptiness into the rumpled contents of his back seat. It was a jalopy sure, but it was his--he earned it fair and square, and as the crimson sun sank, so too did

the jalopy into the mud on the shoulder. The entire shoulder was wet because a sewage main had broken underground. The rank odor of the fetid juices of civilization soaked

up through the ground and into his white linen suit creating a disgusting effect but also effecting a passable disguise. He'd looked like shit before - this was different. He leapt

without looking and without care that people mocked him for being dressed like he was out of a Miami Vice casting call. Still, he was no

perp, pimp or pusher. He had class, depth and integrity. At least so he believed. But today something earth shattering was about to happen to our dear shambling man-beast.

Today was the day that all he had ever held dear would be torn apart, like a duck in a Chinese restaurant. His mother, who he had not seen since birth, was to be

deposed in a bloody coup. "MAMA!" He cried as he grabbed his AK-47. He ran out into the chaos unfolding in the streets. The fighting was getting more intense. He knew he must

"I'm gonna sing a song 'bout my Mama!" He shot someone nearby, but continued on into a Texas swing version of Merl's "Mama Tried." The crowd uncrouched, and came to their feet,

and he began, "The first thing..." but it was very difficult to understand him because he shot someone each time he said a word. He had a lot of bullets. And that's terrible.