Infinite Page #2

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[clanging]

Are there things you just know how to do?

Like, no one’s ever showed you.

Somehow each step in the process makes sense.

Like you’re remembering it.

Not learning it.

[man] For reals, you really made that sh*t yourself, man?

Yep.

Damn.

Hey, yo, Ronny. Yo, Ronny.

Evan, man.

Hey.

As requested.

Kimotsuki-styled iron. Handcrafted.

One of a kind.

Oh, hell, yeah.

Hattori Hanzo, yo? Ooh!

[whistles]

Damn.

Goddamn.

Nice.

Get off me.

Now, let’s get this man paid.

You get high off this sh*t?

No. Clozapine. It’s an antipsychotic.

[chuckles] You get paid in pills?

Evan here’s on “Ronny-care.”

[all laughing]

Yeah. Dr. Ronny.

Why don’t you, like, get them at Duane Reade?

Because Evan don’t wanna talk to shrinks every two weeks. Right?

Yeah. Evan can’t afford 400 bucks a month on a scrip.

Yo. Wikipedia.

What’s the capital of “Brakina Fatso”?

[Ronny] Yeah.

It’s pronounced “Burkina Faso.” Ouagadougou. Could I have my pills, please?

[all laughing]

Sh*t, man. Forgot my count, man.

You made that up.

Damn, man!

[laughing]

Nah.

Homeboy knows everything. He a freak.

How do you know so much?

Honestly, I wish I knew. Makes me nuts.

Could I have my pills, please.

Dang, girl. You eyeballin’ my boy like he a steak dinner.

[man] Yo, yo. What’s gunpowder made of?

74% potassium nitrate, 13% charcoal.

Okay.

Damn. Impressive, man.

[laughs]

I said eyes on me.

Come on, Ronny.

There you go, man. Sixty packages.

That’s only 55.

For real?

Close enough.

The hell it is. I live on those.

Sixty. Hey.

[grunts]

Hey.

You want the real thing, right? That is it.

That’s folded over 70 times. Carbon-treated steel.

Take your damn hands off me.

[c*cks gun]

You better tell your boy to learn how to count.

The deal is for 60 bags.

Yeah? Well, that’s all we got.

You don’t like it, you can go back to Bellevue.

Get the gat on homeboy.

[c*cks gun]

I wanna test this sh*t out.

Yo, what’s gunpowder made of?

[Ronny] Hold out your arm.

Showtime.

Hold out your arm.

Get up.

Put your arm there, huh? It’s the neck or arm, baby.

You choose.

Hey, Ronny. That’s not a toy, bro.

Mind your business, Evan.

Come on, Ronny. This ain’t funny.

[grunts] Oh, God! My fingers!

[Shawna whimpers]

[groans]

I think it works, huh, Ronny?

Cut my goddamn fingers off, man!

You’ll be all right. Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you head on home now.

[Ronny] You’re trippin’, bro.

You are done, homey. You’re a dead fool.

I don’t know, Ronny. You’re talking to a guy who buys antipsychotic medication from you.

I’m feeling a little unbalanced right now.

Maybe the best way to get the voices in my head to stop talking is to cut yours off.

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