At a Pacific beach bonfire, Humboldt passed a joint to San Francisco while Portland silently gloated, thinking that nothing anybody else was smoking could possibly be as good as Portland’s grass. Los Angeles pulled out a gun and everybody but San Diego panicked. Portland tried to talk LA down, but was so unwittingly condescending that LA turned the gun on Portland with a deepening glare. San Francisco gently shushed Portland, and offered kind words of love for LA. The gun slowly lowered as LA listened, slipped through fingers, and finally fell to the sand with a dull thud. Humboldt and San Fransisco held Los Angeles as tears poured out of pain-filled eyes and San Diego threw the gun into the ocean. Firelight mingled with starlight on the cluster of arms and faces. Portland watched, aghast, with no clue as to why they were handling it this way, and considered shunning the lot of them for the foreseeable future in response to their blatant acceptance of violence.