"Wallet," one of them said. He had a bad mustache that reminded him of the Turkish kid on the beach. Probably the same hormones that gave kids mustaches gave them bad ideas like selling fetus jewelry or sticking up people by the ice-cream machines at late night truck-stops. "Keys," he said. "Phone," he added. Perry slowly set down the ice-cream cone on the lid of the trash-can beside him. He'd only eaten one spike off Astro-Boy's head. His vision telescoped down so that he was looking at that kid, at his mustache, at the gun in his hands. He was reaching for his wallet, slowly. He'd need to hitch a ride back to town. Canceling the credit-cards would be tough, since he'd stored all the identity-theft passwords and numbers in his phone, which they were about to take off him. And he'd have to cancel the phone, for that matter. "Do you have an older brother named Jason?" his mouth said, while his hands were still being mugged. "What?" "Works a stall by the Wal-Mart ride, selling contact lenses?" The kid's eyes narrowed. "You don't know me, man. You don't want to know me. Better for your health if you don't know me." His hands were passing over his phone, his wallet, his keys -- Lester's keys. Lester would be glad to have an excuse to build a new car. "Only I own the Wal-Mart ride, and I've known Jason a long time. I gave him his first job, fixing the printers. You look like him." The kid's three buddies were beginning their slow fade into the background. The kid was visibly on the horns of a dilemma. The gun wavered. Perry's knees turned to water. "You're that guy?" the kid said. He peered closer. "Shit, you are." "Keep it all," Perry said. His mouth wasn't so smart. Knowing who mugged you wasn't good for your health. "Shit," the kid said. The gun wavered. Wavered. "Come *on*," one of his buddies said. "Come on, man!" "I'll be there in a minute," the kid said, his voice flat. Perry knew he was a dead man. "I'm really sorry," the kid said, once his friends were out of range. "Me too," said Perry. "You won't tell my brother?" Perry froze. Time dilated. He realized that his fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles hurt. He realized that he had a zit on the back of his neck that was rubbing against his collar. He realized that the kid had a paperback book stuck in the waistband of his bangbanger shorts, which was unusual. It was a fantasy novel. A Conan novel. Wow. Time snapped back. "I won't tell your brother," he said. Then he surprised himself, "But you've got to give me back the credit-cards and leave the car at the market in the morning." The kid nodded. Then he seemed to realize he was holding a gun on Perry. He lowered it. "Yeah, that's fair," he said. "Can't use the fucking cards these days anyway." "Yeah," Perry said. "Well, there's some cash there anyway." He realized he had five hundred bucks in a roll in a hidden pocket in his shorts. "You get home OK?" "I'll thumb a ride," Perry said.