slapping each of us across the face,
berating us about the gun. We
couldn’t do anything but stand
there and take it.
“You guys are trash,” the cop
said. “Where are you from?”
“Alex.”
“Ohhhhh, okay, I see. Dogs
from Alex. You come here and you
rob people and you rape women and
you hijack cars. Bunch of fucking
hoodlums.”
“No, we’re dancers. We don’t
know—”
“I don’t care. You’re all going to
jail until we figure out whose gun
this is.”