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 I've done something wrong so the old fat woman is angry with me and marches ahead of me down the wooden stairs. She stumbles and tumbles down the stairs, caroming off the bannisters, I'm yelling "no, no!" and hear her bones crack. She hits the bottom of the stairs, sprawled out dead...
 There is something there and I can't see what it is. There is something I want to remember but I can't capture its image. I try to find the entry to the memory by starting with what came before, what came after, but nothing works...
 Kitzy is lying in the driveway as I drive up in my car. I wait for him to get out of the way before I pull in, but I don't see him. A thump and a howl. I numbly get out of the car to see him struggling out into the street, dragging his leg behind him. ...
 On an open street at night, a teenage punk is threatening me with a gun, taunting and repeatedly dropping his aim onto me. I've run behind a police officer, look up into his face: strained with fear and attention, pointing his gun back at the punk, a decent man in a tough spot. I start yelling, "shoot, shoot him!" and then a shot: the punk's flat on the sidewalk, blood gushing from his liver as he's whining and wailing...