People always dis' our kind and say we're scum. And I guess they're right.

But still, if they knew how difficult it is to do what we do, the planning that goes into each trip, the determination and affection to the cause, and how it requires more patience than enduring a birthday party... It'd be enough to impress anyone.

We had been driving around for hours. It was a job like any other, I guess. And I an old fool, full of pride. They probably laughed at me, the others, they did. Johnny and Charlene. My so-called "partners in crime".

What a nice term for us. The dirtiest of living filth, with smelly mouths, pussing eyes and crooked noses. You can't be a partner like that. No. Can't comb the remaining three strings of hair back over a scab-ridden scalp and pretend it's an afro. Can't have every other word be a swear, or dress in rags that would embarrass a blind man.

No, no, no. You had to wear suits with abstract ties to be a partner. And utter grunts with three syllables to be the real McCoy. Buy the newspaper and skip ahead to the chess section only to be amazed at how someone had just discovered a brand new way to move little sculptures across a wooden board.

Knowing the back-stories to every obscenity on the front page, didn't give you the same cred'.

But we weren't all bad, I guess. Just an outcome of humanitarian decline. Or society's bastard children. Excuses like that. Yeah, that worked well enough. In theory at least.

"I'm getting pretty tired of this shit," Johnny said. "Haven't seen one in ages."

I looked over at his ugly mug. "You wanna call it quits?" He didn't reply, but I kept on pushing. "You wanna dump this car, steal a suit and start a company? See how long you can make it in the savagery of white-collarism? How long you can pretend you're something else?" I heard a sigh form the back seat. "No, I didn't think so. We are what we are, and we do what we do."

"Jeez, relax man. I only said..." Johnny tried.

I stopped him before he could utter his usual stupidity. "Yeah, I heard you, and it was abundant."

"Abundant? What's that mean?" He was unable to keep those yellow teeth clenched together.

"It means shut the hell up and watch the road, you skull-monkey!" I put an end to the triviality.

He mumbled something I couldn't hear. Probably saying shit about me to Charlene. But checking the mirror I saw she was just glaring out the window with that distant look she sometimes got.

She wasn't a bad lay. Not the best, of course, but pretty good, for being no charge and all. I wondered if she'd seen some nasty shit out there?

Not to say that what we were doing wasn't bad or anything. I just wondered if there were even scummier bags out there? Or were we as far down the chain as they come? The final link so to speak. If anybody had seen worse, it was her, that was certain.

"There's one!" she suddenly blurted out.

My eyes shot back and forth. "Where?"

"There! Over at the bus depot."

"That skanky old bitch?" I laughed. "No, I want something that's innocent and won't cause no trouble."

"She'll be fine," Charlene insisted. "Look, she can barely stand up right."

"Yeah, I can see that. And I can also see her puking all over the road. So, no. Find another one."

Charlene blinked her eyes and pressed her lips together, speaking in that cartoonish voice she used when she wanted to annoy me. "Yessir, Mr. President, sir!"

"Oh, shut the hell up!" I pretended to be mad, but actually thought she looked kinda cute.

We drove on. Into a suburban area with speed bumps, making the tools rattle in the back. They should be called speed-jumps, I though. Maybe I should have said it out loud? It might have been a funny observation, but I couldn't really be sure.

It's always like that. You never knew if the phrase was catchy before you'd actually uttered it. And then you'd be damned if it wasn't.

The pin in the gas meter was almost resting on empty. Or perhaps it was broken? I couldn't remember. Was a pretty good van, though. At least the finest we'd driven in some time.

But like usual, we'd have to get rid of it. Just like a clerk will sell his most valuable goods. Cause that's what we do with things that mean something to us: We get rid of them. Only difference is that a clerk would get something in return. We'd have to burn the van.

"There's one," Charlene said again.

I looked frantically up and down the road again. All I could see were a pair of teenage girls, stumbling along the road. They both had beautiful blonde hair and dressed way more explicit than their fathers would have allowed. Had probably changed outfits after they left home. Gone out wearing a sweater of something, to avoid a beating.

"There's two of them," I said.

"No shit!" Johnny shouted, suddenly more enthusiastic than I'd seen him in days.

I slowed down as we passed them. They were young rave chicks, probably drunk for the very first time. One tried to support the other, without much success. When they'd disappeared from our view, I made a right turn at the first crossroad.

Johnny was pressed up against the window like some kind of zoo animal. "Oh yeah, oh yeah! These'll do fine. Young and innocent, just like you ordered."

"Didn't say nothing about wanting them young."

"Yeah, you did. I heard you," Johnny insisted.

"Nah. I said innocent." I made sure to over-enunciate the last word. "You don't have to be young to be innocent."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just drive on back already."

Making a u-turn was a little difficult in a van of this size. It was the only drawback of the vehicle. But I eventually managed and went back the same way we'd come.

Soon we saw them again, their progress slow but steady. As I stepped on the break, the one helping the other looked up at me, revealing a face even more innocent from tired, longing eyes. She probably dreamt of her bed and its contents. Not a man or boyfriend, but pillows and cuddly bears in pink and light blue.

As we passed them again, Johnny clambered to the rear window. "Come on, they're perfect man!"

I thought I could almost hear yearning in his voice. And I knew he was right, but still pretended I wasn't completely convinced. "You think we can handle two at the time?"

"Shit, you just drive up to them, and I can handle them both." Charlene sniggered. "Pussies like that."

I had to drive a little further back this time before I found somewhere to turn. "Ok," I finally said. "But I'll do the talking. Ok?"

"Hell you will, mister!" Charlene burst out. "I said I can handle them. And I can handle them!"

"Look, I don't care any which way," Johhny said. "Just get the fuckers into the car, 's all I want". His mouth left open, drool ran from his lower lip.

"Ok, ok," I said. "But I'll do the talking. Or else I drive on."

"Yeah, yeah," Charlene replied. "Whatever."

As we approached them again, I went really slow. Their asses were beautifully illuminated by our head lights. They looked disproportionately tall as they rambled along in their high heels. Had probably admired themselves in the mirror earlier, thinking maturity was all in the height.

The van came to a crawl as we came up beside them. I wondered if they were scared? Or just too drunk and ignorantly young?

Johnny slid open the side door and showed off his yellow smile. He looked genuinely happy. "Hey, you kids!"

I sent him an angry look.

If he noticed, he didn't care. "Hey you kids! You need a ride?"

"Shut up man," I said in a low voice, hoping the girls wouldn't hear. Then, putting on my game-face and using my most trusting tone. "Saaaay... Where you girls going?"

But Charlene didn't want to play the long game. "Come on in inside girls. We'll give ya a lift!" She started laughing like a crazy witch.

The supportive girl looked up, but not in our direction. She had to be scared by now. All her pretense of looking older than she was, crumbled. Was but a defenseless infant. But then, she started waving at someone up the street. "Hey dad. Where were you?"

My eyes shot forward, scouting for whom she called. I couldn't see anyone, but when Johnny let out a loud curse, I pressed the gas pedal in pure reflex.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Charlene screeched, her eyes back to her evil self.

"Her dad's coming" I said, taking deep breaths to contain my disappointment.

The van gave off angry grunts as it shot forward and I struck the wheel repeatedly.

We'd already gone a full two blocks when Charlene yelled back. "No, he's fucking not! Do you see anybody coming?"

I didn't. It was all empty roads, fenced off by trimmed lawns and houses that looked the same.

"Fuck," Johnny said again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He hit the side of the car.

"Hey, careful there," I said.

"Fuck you too," he replied.

"Look, just turn the damn car around, and let's go back and get them. You fuckhead," said Charlene.

I wanted to argue, but knew I'd lose. I always did. So, I turned the van around for a third time and back we went.

"Where'd they go?" Johnny said as we approached the spot where we had spoken to them. "Where the fuck did they go?"

I slowed down and even stopped for a moment. Johnny jumped from side to side, yelling more obscenities.

But they were gone. And we all knew it.

I sped off again in a hurry as Johnny slumped back into his seat.