Charles Manson snubs Spencer's fawning advances.
IN LEMUEL'S
employee locker room, waitresses, dish washers, bus boys and bus girls smoke cigarettes, try to convince one another to have sexual intercourse, and traffic in baggies of home-made methamphetamine.
SPENCER
alone is constructively occupied. He sits on a bench, slowly writing on the back of a Lemmy the Lemur place-mat. He grimaces and struggles, as if each word is being dragged from his forehead with a hook and chain. Writing is no easier for Spencer than reading or talking.
Continued
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The bus boy's heart is broken. He realizes that
he tried to break into the big leagues too soon.
Time to go back to the basics.
"Dear Mr. Manson," he writes, "Hello from the hole of the Lemur."
He loses his train of thought as his mind unfocuses and wanders back to last night.
Spencer sees himself standing over Ruth's bed, knife poised.
