pUSHCART*

Johnston Smack stole the French kid’s moped, block-peddles and a yellow banana seat with sparkles, busted it up and tossed into the sewer. A child’s electric pushcart, oiled with smear, for fast getaways and easy drafting. Ponce bastard should a stayed on his side of the tracks, no place for a Frenchfryman, ginner ‘em the old Doc-heave-ho to the coalscuttle, sad pathetic cunt. We had your’s side and they their’s, and you didn’t pass over the line; made for a fucking mess and tumble, shit and piss-vinegar flying like cats’ fur, a sight for bloodied eyes and bash-in noses; fucking cunts the lot of ‘em.