“I could picture hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows.
Boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better”
<b>Pony:</b> Quick! You have to pretend to be my dad to Johnny's dad! *hands Dally the phone*<p/><b>Dally:</b> hello, this is... Dad Curtis. Yes. The children are playing swords. Sorry, playing with swords. They're bleeding. Oh no. They are dead. Don't call again. *hangs up*<p/><b>Dally:</b> sorry, I panicked.<p/></p>