Excerpt from Poo Poo Splatter Splat

Even a backpack can be an explosive device, and whenever I see one abandoned on a highway median or a bus shelter, I think of the teams of plastic-wrapped security drones who will inevitably come running to inspect and remove the theoretical-explosive-backpack-device only to find empty Cheeto bags and lube and Axe cologne and tic-tac containers and beef jerky wrappers and dead lighters and the library of Alexandria inside.


(Read the rest of Poo Poo Splatter Splat in Death Confetti: Pickers, Punks, and Transit Ghosts in Portland, Oregon, published by Feral House.)