Imagery:
"The accent was Deep South, genuine peckerwood, and on his right arm was a tattoo of a grinning skull in a green beret with crossed bayonets under the jaw and the inscription kill them all...let God sort them out."
"The inside of the car was a firestorm. I couldn't see anything except flames swirling inside the gutted windows. But in my mind's eye I saw a papier-maché figure, with freckles painted on his face, lying quietly between the roaring yellow walls of a furnace, ridging and popping apart in the heat."
The Neon Rain