Joey had got in the wrong van, and the guy was telling him, "you wanna go see your Pep-pep, don't you?"
Sure, Joey was saying. Joey really loved his Grandpa, who he referred to as "Pep-pep". Like the girl in the Dario Argento movie, "I call him cookie, because I like both with chocolate milk."
"Look, Joey" said the man, turning in the seat, and shining a light on the beaten old Grandpa in the back of the van.
"Here's your Pep-pep."
Then Joey vomited.
Something like "they just want those microwave tacos from Jack In The Box." Look bitch, you don't know everything about people, so you better just stop judging everybody before you know anything about them.
Look bitch.
I'm trying to throw it back on you, or anything like that. I'm just saying, babies, its a big old varied world out there. Maybe you just haven't developed the faculty to make a more granular analysis of the world. Stick to the objective facts. "It's not what you know; its what you can prove."
Rumpus acting as the decoy while the police gassed "peaceful protesters". And the media, mad again because Lucy tricked them into trying to kick the football again.
You have to play dead, Joey. If you don't, that rage inside him will keep feeding. So just lay down, arms by your side, or even better, hands folded on your chest, like a deathpose. Close your eyes and breathe slowly, quietly.
Pep-pep was the first, in the final analysis, to depart the mortal coil: first out the door, so to speak, and gone but not forgotten, but rather just a prop to be used to freak out Joey.
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