Fun in the Sun

Fun in the Sun, thought Cobb as he lay out his tanning material on the roof of his apartment building. The air was less thick with cancerous debris at this height, and Cobb was looking forward to roasting in the February sunshine. From his vantage point he could see almost all of the Watershed Heights ghetto below him. It was an inspiring image, one he hoped to convert into a small figurine one day, but that would have to wait.

Cobb slipped out of his suspenders and slathered on the SPF. Aaahh, he sighed. Aaaaahhh.

He drifted off into a pleasant nap. Dreams of Tahiti and friendly island natives danced before his eyes. All was well in the alternate universe Cobb inhabited in his sleep until a piercing siren woke him up to the putrid reality that was his life. "Punks," Cobb said. He rubbed his eyes and peered over the edge of the roof, following the sounds that led his line of sight to the Shop n' Shop. A black-haired punk ass bitch was skulking down the street, away from the scene of whatever petty crime had just taken place. This punky bitch character looks awfully suspicious, Cobb mused. Images from Pick the Perp flashed before his eyes. Prostitution? Armed robbery? Parole violation? These were equally horrendous possibilities, and Cobb had a hunch that this girl might have committed every one of them.