Idiots, all of them.

Look at them, standing around, wailing and sobbing. As I stare down from the 5th floor, I can’t hear them but I can see their gesticulations and the arrival of the emergency vehicles. I’m so close that I’m continents away from this one.

They say firebugs like to return to the fire scene to watch it all unfold.

That must make me a deathbug.

“Mr. Simon?” Marie’s voice is grating and insistent. “IFTC is down 50 cents.”

“Fitty,” I say.

“Pardon?”

I turn and I realize that I still have my hand on my crotch but I don’t care.

“Never mind.” I turn my back on her and my attention is once again at the window as she retreats in haste.

Funny, they had called me things like Psycho at Bridgette’s place, but had never called me Mister.

Call me Mr. Psycho.
I still need a light for my cigarette.