Well, morning Sam
Like a bad-luck planet in today's horoscope, here's the ol' hippie hating mad dog himself in the flesh

Lieutenant detective Christian F. "Bigfoot" Bjornsen
[?]
When he walked, a flattop of Flintstone proportions and a [bad word] evil twinkle in his eye that says 'civil rights violation'

At Playa Vista High, Shasta made Class Beauty in the yearbook four [bad word]  always got to be the ingenue in school plays, fantasized like everybody else about getting into the movies, and soon as she could manage it was off up the freeway looking for some low-rent living space in Hollywood. Doc, aside from being just the only doper she knew who didn't use heroin, which freed up a lot of time for both of them, had never figured out what else she might've seen in him. Not that they were even together that long. Soon enough she was answering casting calls and getting some theater work, onstage and off, and they each gradually located a different karmic thermal above the megapolis, gliding each into a different fate

Back when they were together, she could go weeks without anything [bad word] than a pout
Now she was laying some [bad word] of face ingredients on him that he couldn't really read at all

Does it ever end?

Of course it does

It did