Chapter XIII
Holy Shits
Awake for three minutes, Champ Sappline sat up on his malleable bed within the purloined kitchen below R.J. the Third’s bathroom. The garbage man yawned, stood, stretched, pulled his long blonde hair behind his ears, picked up a bottle of toothscrub, squirted two cubic centimeters into his mouth and swished the viscous paste around. Anti-plaque nanobrooms and fissure-sealing nanoplasterers prickled his teeth, tongue and gums until he spat the foam out into a mug, which rested upon the table that he had found last week on the sidewalk.
A knock upon the ceiling startled him. “You are going to get sandwiches with us or no?” the herpetology student inquired through the partially lifted trapdoor.
Champ looked out into the alley and exchanged glances with an unhappy b
