Urban Logics, Page 53.

Now the audience, it's a bunch of air-heads mostly, yer basic zero-space posse, and they're going wild at the stage battle. The bouncers have to move in, hatchet-faced bastards one and all, especially when the poet blows up the plastic horse. Oh yeah, I'm telling you, spews all this crazy mixed-up word-oil at the horse, sets fire to the language and the whole fucking horse. Total glow finish. Horseshit, the place was maniac city.