Little Jimmy is walking home from school one day. Johnny Dark is leaning on the corner of the kedai runcit.
"Jimmy!" Johnny cries, "come join me for a minute."
Little Jimmy doesn't like Johnny Dark's leather jacket or his levi's jeans. Little Jimmy doesn't like Johnny Dark's vintage wayfarers or switchblade comb. But most of all, Little Jimmy doesn't like the smoldering stick that's hanging from Johnny Dark's mouth. It makes him look like a dragon. He smells like an open sewer.
But Little Jimmy joins him. "H-how are you doing, Johnny?" Jimmy says. A little scared. Bless him.
"Better now that you're here, sport," says Johnny Dark, "I can't finish my Lucky and I know you're the man to help me out."
"Gosh!" cries Little Jimmy, "I've never been lucky myself. May be things are looking up for me!"
Oh Jimmy, if you only knew.
The next thing you know, Jimmy's turned into a dragon himself. Lucky's are a way of life for him.
"Jimmy?" his mother asks, "what's wrong?"
"That I don't have enough money for the fucking ciggies!" He growls, kicking a chair on his way out of the room.
He's going down to the piers, picking up sailors. Some nights, he himself is the sailor. Even Johnny Dark is scared of Little Jimmy.
"You've changed, Jimmy," says Johnny Dark.
"Whatever, bitch," says Little Jimmy.
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