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PAN MAN CAN
Lighting Coffin Nails With Peter Pan
Back by Pan demand, it’s Peter
I told you last week about the benefits of having a crazy best friend.
The benefits:
- You get to witness up close what fearless living looks like.
- It looks like walking up to the guillotine line of dying and sliding toes over the line, toe by toe, until they’re gone, the toe coins spent on the rush of saying “No” to death ten times, stealing the record from cats and becoming a god on their vile Olympus.
Peter was my best friend and I told him so. Sometimes we’d get into little sessions of passing loyalty back and forth: “You’re my best friend,” I’d say, and he’d say, “You’re my best friend,” then I’d up the ante by saying, “You’re the best best friend I ever had, and we’ll always be best friends or die.” He liked that. He liked the “die” part, and he’d say it back to me.
All local cats would joyfully watch these sessions from the shadows and shiver their tails in a rhythm known only by the undying worms of hell. I don’t know what that means, which makes sense: They’re cats.