We ruined Linda G.’s life. It was like voodoo. The stuff we did to her was ludicrous, not the singer of course. She did every soon-to-be jock and cheerleader in elementary school and I always wanted to be a photographer like Helmut Newton. One day Squinny and I spread 1,000 photocopied images of her having sex with Brit, a funny doggie style of sorts. Brit learned what it meant to be punked by pricks and never returned to high school again. We giggled, I swear. Poor Linda ended up in rehab just a few years later.