"Right. Challenge the bastards on their own turf. Come screeching up to the crosswalk, bucking and skidding with a bottle of rum in one hand and jamming the horn to drown out the music... glazed eyes insanely dilated behind tiny black, gold-rimmed greaser shades, screaming gibberish... a genuinely dangerous drunk, reeking of ether and terminal psychosis."
-The "main character", describing himself challenging people to a drag race
A little creepy, eh? Poor Hunter.