In the surreal world of Buffy Cram's stories, someone or something has slipped beneath the skins of her already beleaguered characters, rearranging the familiar into something strange and even sinister, making off with their emotional and even physical goods.

In Large Garbage: A Radio Belly Single, a smug suburbanite becomes obsessed with the "hybrids," the wandering mob of intellectual vagrants overrunning his complacent little cul de sac, snacking on pate and reciting poetry. Equally repelled by the hybrids' uncleanliness and intrigued by their freedom, Henry draws dangerously close to their secret nighttime life of sloshing claret and Proust quotes that overflow from finger-printed wine glasses and dirt-smudged lips. As the LA Times wrote: this "'new breed of homelessness'...cleverly envisions an alternative to the ever-widening circle of consumption that defines us now."