Very soon after that, Bud swapped clothes with an indigent down on the 
beach, giving up all his black leather and coming away with a T-shirt and 
shorts of his own. The T-shirt was much too small; it bound him under the 
armpits and pressed against his muscles so that he felt the eternal twitching 
even more than usual. He wished he could turn the stimulators off now, relax 
his muscles even for one night, but that would require a trip to the mod 
parlor, and he had
to figure that the Ashanti had the mod parlors all staked out.