" No, I ain’t gonna have nothing to do with stolen cars. "
" Aw, come on, man! Tony’ll come with me, won’t you, amazing darling Tony? " And Tony - a thin, dark-haired, holy-eyed moaning foaming lost soul - leaned on Dean and groaned and groaned, for he was sick suddenly and then for some odd intuitive reason he became terrified of Dean and threw up his hands and drew away with terror writhing in his face. Dean bowed his head and sweated. He ran out and drove away. Frankie and I found a cab in the driveway and decided to go home. As the cabby drove us up the infinitely dark Alameda Boulevard along which I had walked many and many a lost night the previous months of the summer, singing and moaning and eating the stars and dropping the juices of my heart drop by drop on the hot tar, Dean su
