Chapter 5
Abbott screamed. The scream jarred him from sleep into wakefulness with nothing in between. He sat up. The top sheet was in a ball at his feet; the bottom sheet was damp with his sweat. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, breathing fast, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was disgusted by the fact that his d**k was hard.
He didn’t want to think what the dream was about. To help him keep his mind off the nightmare, he surveyed his studio apartment. Here was the card table and folding chairs he had bought for $39.99 at K-Mart. Here was the plaid and maple Early American couch he had purchased at a thrift store for $150 (it sagged at one end where the springs had broken). And the real antique was the portable black and white TV on a stand, with aluminum foil on its rabbit
