absolutely no rediculousness.
Tom the Mack and his cronies walk the street preying on innocent whores and roughing people for their cash, but these are not monsters, these are men doing things to men, men doing things to women, taking advantage of other humans. nothing else moves in the night. everything is natural in the world of adults.
these ghosts wander the streets, unseen. silent screeches echoing as the confused dead wander beneath the surface of notice or care. no time for the dead i have a meeting, a board, a lunch, a meeting, a conference, a flight to catch, a dinner, a play, a show, and a mortgage. im a big city type and what happens in alleys shouldn't concern me i get paid too much to worry about the sub-surface of life. another dies, and another dies, and another dies, and they all go unnoticed. now the dead are stacked one atop another like firewood. wade through them without even realizing it. who cares they're invisible and intangible. no difference to me either way.
i dont have time to wait for anything. i die a little more each day. i suck the life out of everyone around me. i don't go to church. i dont remember anything. my car costs more than you. my clothes cost more than you.
and suddenly the words stopped, and the music came up, and the lights went down. and we held hands in the dark, and made out like teenagers, and my hand went up your shirt. and in the world of young men and women, everything was just fine.