"Good morning, baby. Looks like both of us overindulged last night." That's one way of putting it," she replied sarcastically. He brought her a cup of...coffee, kissed her on the forehead and returned to making their breakfast. Both felt guilty about the previous night's events, but neither of them ever mentioned it. The next few days saw them lying around and relaxing, each absorbed in their own thoughts. While sex was a non-issue at first, they fell asleep each night in each others arms. For. Let me tell you what really happened.It was April or May, 1977. (Or it might have been 1978. I don't know. I don't keep a diary.) They were playing at some dump in Tampa, of all places. About half-an-hour into the show, some fat asshole in the back yelled, "Go fuck yourselves, faggots!" Before I tell you what happened next, let me tell you about what Suicide shows were like in the early-to-mid Seventies. Picture two leather-clad guys, one scowling and torturing an organ, the other striding. More

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