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Party Poison’s face glowed green in the light of the OPEN sign, shining in the window of the gas station. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Whenever he moved his head, the world spun dizzily as if he had run around in circles. A stuffy fogginess clouded his mind.
He glanced over at Kobra Kid, who stood several feet away with the town spiritualist. He laughed and nodded as she spoke. Anger boiled inside him: a sloppy, sinking fury, deepened by the alcohol he drank at the bar. He turned away and fixed coldly on the gas station door. Who had dragged him away from the bar as soon as he heard the recycler was in town? Poison gripped the toolbox in his hands, his mouth curling with bitterness.