"Martha, I'm going out to watch the softball game at the high school. One of my Mock Trial students is pitching." Larson grabbed his car keys off the table and headed for the door.
"Okay, dear, don't be out too late, okay?" The wife's voice was barely audible from upstairs.
"Right." With that, Larson slammed the door and walked on over to the driveway. Tonight was the big rave-away at the Cyber-Junkie downtown, and he had been hired to DJ. He hopped into his old Dodge, started the engine and was off. He thought about what kind of crowd there would be tonight. Probably some Mods, some hard-core punkers, some heroin-addict-psycho-bitches, definitely a lot of high school students. Boy would they be taught a lesson. But, some broken noses and arms wasn't that big a deal, right?
Larson remembered the day a preppy freshman or sophomore cheerleader came into the place. Two skinheads, obviously drunk and stoned out of their minds, decided it would be funny to clothesline her. She almost choked to death before her preppy boyfriend gathered the guts to go out onto the dance floor and help her up. Larson hoped she hadn't been raped on the way out.
Larson's wife had no concept of the Cyber-Junkie, and Larson planned to keep it that way. Not that he needed the extra bucks coming in from the DJ job, but he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the music, the mindless dancing, the thoughtless violence...