The next morning aching from the fucking. Walking over to the
mirror you see what the punks did to you. Covered from head to toe with ink
annd peircings you are a skinpunk slut. A burning need fills you as
instinctively you pull out a cigarette, light it and start smoking. You figure you
better heead home and try to figure out how you are going...change
back...ditch classes. At the bus stop a rude little fucker a few years younger
than you keeps staring at your tats. The smoke from your fag drift over toward
him and you watch his eyes glaze over. You walk over to him and ....