“Venner was in his twenties, had orange spiked hair and a tattoo of a scorpion under his right ear and a muscled body encased in black leather pants and an orange T-shirt with the words QUEER POWER emblazoned on the front; he wore his hostility toward both heterosexuals and cops like another motto on the sleeve. He stonewalled every question Runyon put to him by saying aggressively, “No comment. Buy something or get out, you don’t belong here” or “Hey, you’d look good in cowhide and chains” or “...How about a fur-lined jock strap, they’re on sale this week.” Runyon didn’t bite on any of it. Nothing ever showed on his face unless he wanted it to, and he showed Venner nothing but a flat stare the entire five minutes he was in there. When he said, “You’d better watch yourself, kid, or you’ll end up in the hospital like the other three victims,” and got another smart-ass comment in return, he walked out. The Paul Venners of the world, the hard-line haters, the self-involved screw-everybody-else jerks gay or straight, deserved whatever they got.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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