"Axel and I did not live in my second Sliverville punk rock apartment for long. Unfounded allegations that we habitually pissed and vomitted off the balcony proved to be our undoing. When we moved out we played the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen" at top volume one last time to prove our innocence. We were too young to get insurance to drive a moving van so my mom drove. My mom was very responsible, she bought all her kids beer when they were underaged and she did not phone the cops every time Kitty stole her car.
Before the eviction the guy who lived across the street from us knocked on the door. We were relieved it was not the police when we opened the door.
"Phone the police. The fucking bitch cheated on me and now she's gone. My pad is wrecked. Phone the police."
My neighbour was shitfaced and crying like Paul McCartney about dead baby seals. Henrik had answered the door with us so he asked the guy, "Is she dead?"
"The guy fell apart when he heard this. "I'm such a fucking idiot. Why didn't I kill the cheatin' bitch."
We went across the hall to check out his place. There were plants and dirt everywhere and a few holes in the wall. But no bodies. Right away we figured he must be from some other place than Sliverville. We went back to our beer.