Pistol Jack had a gun in his pocket while he was circling ’round the bank for the last couple of days. He needed money to buy a new life – the kind of life he saw many times on TV:
Celebrities, fast cars, hot chicks, Empire-State-tall glasses full of drinks, Cola-Cocain & neon glows in the center of the city, bourgeois parties, diamond eyes, golden teeth, velvet skin & smelly smelly cigars.
In the end, he really did rob the bank but was shot in the back of his head while he was running away. A picture for TV News: motionless body on dry ground, police sirens, money spilled from the bag, Pistol Jack’s brain spilled from his head, some old lady shocked & in tears, cold gun in the dirt. And – of course – one foolish soul, invisible, flying away.
The Coroner of this town – Steve Coldfriend – said that Pistol Jack was dying slowly anyway – that he had growing TeleVision tumor in his head.
by Vyvyan Ost