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Cake day: February 8th, 2025

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  • “That’s a gun.” Ralfi said, putting a plump, restraining hand on his boy’s taut blue nylon chest. “Johnny has an antique firearm in his bag.” So much for Edward Bax. I guess he’d always been Ralfi Something or Other, but he owed his acquired surname to a singular vanity. Built something like an overripe pear, he’d worn the once-famous face of Christian White for twenty years—Christian White of the Aryan Reggae Band. Sony Mao to his generation, and final champion of race rock. I’m a whiz at trivia. Christian White: classic pop face with a singer’s high-definition muscles, chiseled cheekbones. Angelic in one light, handsomely depraved in another. But Ralfi’s eyes lived behind that face, and they were small and cold and black.