Screeching tires on the slick pavement; a still, tense moment that would have to last a lifetime for some unfortunate soul; a simlpe flick of the finger and slugs would turn some helpless victim into cream cheese. The vignette played time and time again in the moist heat of the dark: it danced in Chongo's brain, like a "C" movie in a "B" world.

Bananas: skin 'em, throw away the bone--what's left to eat. Like the seamy side of life. Like sucking a limp fish dry. Like . . . .