Ready-Steady Your Glass I’d like to think I was one of the smart ones for getting out of here when the police force doubled to one thousand strong and thoroughly hammered. The same year the town orphanage became a skyscraper, and those two star crossed lovers from the class of ‘89 were finally caught for what they had been doing to all those lonely widows out in the good neighborhood. This is a small place that went straight up and became a labyrinth under purely dishonest, hallucinogenic circumstances. It’s gone through a few documentaries worth of culture, a few million immigrants and at least that many buildings and homes. When I lived here there was only one McDonald’s. Think about that. And it never, ever burst into flames for no good reason. I’m not one of the smart ones. I moved away after Lucy and Katherine got married and took forty-six lives with them in the gunfire that rolled with the confused aftermath and very nearly sent the sun into permanent exhile. I left when scientists figured out why the tornadoes were only destroying Main Street.