Shooter Needs Sleep  I'm by Carter church with my friend Tiny Combs. My truck has been parked in a no-parking zone. I have a parking ticket. On the ticket it says that this is my first ticket for parking in a no-parking zone. I feel like I'm at Brimson. I move my truck by pushing it from the driver's side door. I scrape Tiny's car and another car as I move it. I back it up without starting the engine, and then push it forward to start the engine while it's moving.  I am on my bike, holding onto the handlebars. My feet are dangling off the back of the bike with my belly on the seat. I struggle and finally do pull myself up and sit on the seat. I see Jackson Shooter, my high school basketball coach, in his truck at the corner of Holy Ave and 1st St. I follow him on my bike. His truck turns into a little green buggy. He is speeding. I catch up to him on my bike. He is stopped on 2nd St. near Jeffereson School and I skid to a stop next to him. He is on a bike too. He says he's addicted to winning. His team beat Rival High School last night, he says. I pluck two big blood-sucking mosquitoes off my leg. Jackson says that he needs sleep.