A Little Night Music.
Cleaned up in fresh jeans, a baby blue dress shirt, boots, and his stickpin, Trevor swaggered down the street towards Crystal’s. Passing the bank, he waved at the tellers closing for the day. They were the same workers who witnessed his rendition of a twerk, inspecting his bum the evening before. Ignorant, Trevor just smiled and waved. The tellers laughed as he passed.
In an uncharacteristically happy mood, he whistled the song from the peyote trip. Trevor reached the door when he noticed a VW minivan parked outside Crystal’s shop. Two couples, all dressed as modern-day hippies—these were much younger than the group from the previous morning—piled in to leave. He thought, I guess old VW vans are as common as pickup trucks.
He opened the door to find Crystal behind
