Quinton has been found on a boat.
Northridge California is hotter than the sweaty rivers of hell. I’m stuck to a leather couch, my brother Kyle has a buzzing needle in his back, hammering away at his flesh, a barn owl is bleeding. On a laptop I search for anything to pass the time. Through the black magick of google I have found Quinton Gozza on a Christian discipleship ship far at sea. He’s the tall man, head sticking above the smiling manicured fingers of God. 
He’s a little right of center.
