Saturday night Vegan Boy texted me to hang out. “I found a cool backyard party,” he said. This cool backyard ended up being a glorified alley in Bedstuy. On the way to the party we passed three hookers and four drug deals. A thirty-year-old bear Vegan Boy used to fuck answered the doorbell. He led us through a laundry room through a basement probably built out of asbestos. A group of shirtless guys danced in the backyard. One of them didn’t wear underwear; I could see his pubes. He poured a fifty all over his body and then walked on the sidewalk without shoes. A red headed girl screamed, “I only fuck Irish Catholics,” and then spray-painted a wall. Afterwards, the bear led us to a gay club. We passed a car that had been stripped of its doors and hood. The bear sat inside the engine and asked us to take a photo. I wasn’t sure if I was going to die out of misery or from a gunshot.