Phoenix Talon hit the wall with a thud. Try as he might, he couldn't recover his balance; his head was full of fuzz.
    The danish. Drugged. Musta been.
    And it was on TV. It must be. All these damn cameras must be broadcasting me gettin g my ass kicked by a smurf to the whole city. By the Toyman. The fuckin' Toyman. The fuckin' Toyman who made me dance like a puppet. Who kidnapped me and made me mouth his praises. Who humiliated me in front of Boston. Who fooled me with the stupidest, most obvious front I've ever seen. The fuckin' Toyman.
     He couldn't concentrate. Reflexively, he dragged himself out of the wall, covered in plaster, but his mind wandered. He couldn't think. Could barely move. Toys. Fuckin' toys. I was 12. Summer vacation. And Ma was lookin' for me to clean the garage. So I ran out back. There were some trees to hide behind and I had the Six Million Dollar Man, the 12 inch one with the eye thing, and his arm had broken off a long time ago and his uniform was missing somewhere and I was gettin' too old for toys. Way too old for toys. And I had a magnifying glass, and it was a hot day and I had this glass and burned the ants and burned the grass and this little dot of light, right under the glass, burning light, focused light, little tiny dot of light smoking the ants and the grass and the Six Million Dollar Man, killing the toy, burning it, melting it, dissolving it into plastic smoke, light kills toys, completely, totally light light, down from the sun, into the glass light little tiny tiny dot light cone of light light kills toys dead light right on TV light I need light we need light I need light I NEED LIGHT I NEED LIGHT I NEED LIGHT.
    
     I can get light.

  Dave wrote this segment.

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