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Gurter

Lights are still on in the opening act’s bus: Helvek is practicing scales quietly while Lens of Stars and Gurter shuffle for whist. The Electric Hipster is doing a little coke but not bothering anybody. The gig’s just ended, and there is a tension of hope that the main act might still decide to share.

Two hours later the hope leaves only its spiteful residue. The Electric Hipster peeks through the window at Lenny Spitzman’s Bus O’ Laffs, visibly wobbling across the parking lot, groupies spilling out the door.

“Fuckin’ comedians,” he mutters.

Gurter nods glumy, and strums with horny fingers.

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