COLD
SNAP
He
rolled himself out of bed early every morning, even though
worked themselves out by the time he reached the bottom of the first.
cup of coffee. Outside it was cold in the streets. Early birds dug their
hands deep into their coat pockets while making their way to their jobs.
Living in the big city often presents strange conditions. He knows how
to cohabitate with the rest of his fellow twelve-and-a-half million citizens,
even on the days which promised to be as bad as this. What is another
cold and dreary day for most is another potential day for adventure for
a few. Living in a neighborhood where the language is crack dealt from
the backs of limousines, he'd learned how to survive with at least a tiny
bit of sanity, instead of a compromising of the soul. The telephone rings.
It is his old school friend, the one from Westside. He tells of a good
day's plan, of new sights to behold. It is a good thing. The adventure begins.
Story by L.M. Enopi
Photos by Bill Thomas
They meet in the Chinese quarter, Crazy Kid was there. He and the friend who phoned arrived
all bundled up in the most flexible foul weather gear they could find. They bowed their shoulders.
under the icy wind pouring down from the skyscrapers. The wind carried the howling whine of a
big city slowly coming to life. Glancing around at the others' faces, he realized that there was no
other place that he'd rather be. "So, where's the spot you were talking about?"
he asked eventually. Crazy Kid shrugged his shoulders impatiently, while the other
ventured a reply. "Follow me," he said. They wound their way through the back
alleys of some of the more dangerous parts of the city. Snow lay in the gutters,
dirty heaps blown by the wind. The streets were lifeless, except for the occasional street person.
who stirred in some shivering dream. They rolled through the silent facades where only cold was
alive, a cold which pierced through their hearts. Each was alone with their individual thoughts. There
they kept their minds warm as they pushed along across the straightened lines of the horizon.
The groggy city unfolded itself before the wheels of the group until they came to a bridge, travers-
ing a small storm drain which runs through the middle of the Sherman Ghetto, winding itself through
a valley of twisted buildings with pointed peaks that practically shut out the sky. He realized the
Above: Sub-zero heros Petey Westra, Rich Walker, Jim Moore & Willey Singer. Next Page: Petey smacks a frontside icepick slappie
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