We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
CHAPTER 7: THE PHOC ROC TOC-2
“What the f**k!” A seated soldier said loudly to the men he was seated with. He rose and strutted to the far end of the bar. The Phoc Roc’s music system had an amplifier powerful enough to blow out the building’s flimsy walls. The soldier turned the volume up drowning Whiteboy’s and Molino’s duet and the shrieks and hoots from the theater. “Keep yer mitts off the dials,” Molino commanded loudly. He threw his fists into the air feeling Whiteboy behind him. “Watch yerself, Cool.” Molino turned the stereo volume down, snarled at the soldier, replaced the record that had been playing with a Cat Stevens album and played “Moonshadow.” Molino sang along with the record. “Here come Doc Johnson and the dudes,” Molino announced to Whiteboy. “Floor show must be bad.” “Ef it ever was my feet,” Jack
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD