“The Cocaïne White Alpina, with the (why is it Ox Blood?) Seats (the senses)”

Melvin Lawrence leaned on the front quarter panel, taking a pull from his favorite ‘flavored’ Backwood, of black cherry and vanilla variety, pulling off his favorite pair of vintage aviator sunglasses. The sun shone bright, Melvin feeling like God’s stage light focused in on him. Clouds rolled behind him, moving in at an increased speed. Nothing could mess this day up for him; he looked across the sky…