ref: dd2229487f6f9332e8797c9e7ca59d50c1aac19b
dir: /troff/0215.ms/
.LP .ce .ps 16 .CW ICHABOD CRIME .R .ps 10 .br .ce .PP .ps 10 .I .DC C ODE SMURF! .R shouted Ichabod Crime through his megaphone. .PP .ps 10 Ichabod remained oblivious to normative convention as he angled his way through the crowd, leaning on his horn, parting the bystanders with the grill of his blue Mercedes limousine. His blue privilege, fully leveraged. He cocked his missing head and adjusted his side mirror before once again placing his foot upon the gas pedal. In this way Ichabod Crime advanced to his objective. .PP .ps 10 Blue bodypaint on blue metal flake. Faces in the window. The crowd pressed against Crime's car. Time had slowed, but Crime refused to comply with any revised schedule. Punched the horn and flashed his high beams. This, too, was simply the way things were done. It would be pointless to argue. .PP .ps 10 Crime squinted through the windshield. .PP .ps 10 Nineteen\-thirty. Ichabod had said that he'd be there by eighteen\-hundred. .PP .ps 10 Either you put up with it or you didn't. .bp