“That’s a crock of shit,” the Wire yelled out. “Yooz guys seen Jeremiah Johnson too fucking much.” He was drunk, his eyes a web of red, and when he got this way his neck was the same color. “You can’t just quit life and move out West like goddamn hippies. Everyone’s got to be a stat sometime.”

“Don’t be ignorant,” Mousy said. “That’s a crock of shit. You’re just afraid to make a move. It’s been like this all through history. Look at the morons who fought for the British during the American Revolution. What, you think they were all just brave beyond reason? Uh-uh. But they’d march straight into battle knowing that they were bullet catchers … dart boards … coffin fillers. And you better believe they were leaving a trail of British turds every step of the way. But, like fools, they strode forward. Why?”

“Because they were dumbshits?” DeCenz guessed.

“Because they’d been brainwashed into believing there was no other choice. But there was. And there still is, you guys!”

“I would’ve fought’n if I lived back then, too,” Tommy the Wire said.

“Big deal,” Mousy said. “You wouldn’t have had tiddly-squat to lose anyway. You could’ve strolled up to the front line without even getting shot at.”

“Why?” the Wire said. “’Cause I’m quicker’n them?”

“No, moron. Because they never would’ve seen the whites of your eyes.”

That was a pretty good one and DeCenz and I laughed.

“Come on, you guys,” Mousy said, “open your eyes. We’re on the front line. And we’re all marching toward cancers and ulcers and alcoholism and heartache and then fucking death. Let’s get out, huh. I mean it, Dunph. You happy here, or what?”

I shrugged.

“DeCenz, are your parents happy?” Mousy asked. “Is even one of your grandparents happy?”

“Not really,” DeCenz said. “My grandparents are all dead. Remember I told you about my grammy who got creamed by the bus? She was the last one.”

“Rough way to go,” I said.

“Not really. She never knew what hit her.”

“How do you know?” the Wire asked.

“Pigs said so.”

“And you believe them?” the Wire said with a laugh. “Boy, are you fucking stupid. What do you think they’re gonna say? That your fucking grammy was wide awake and scared shitless and knew she was about to croak?”

“Hey, fuck off,” DeCenz said.

By the end of the night DeCenz and I agreed with Mousy. We had to get away from Pawtucket. Wire said that he’d “been borned” in Pawtucket so he should “croak” there, too.