Two boys spend a hot Saturday trying to make a few bucks from door-to-door sales; by Mitchell Waldman. The orange and white Volkswagen van was setting in the parking lot behind the bank waiting for them that Saturday morning. Seven a.m., their parents still sleeping soundly in their bed, and a little early for 14-year-olds on their summer breaks, but there was money to be made. Hunt and Lawson were sitting up front smoking. Hunt was behind the wheel, waving Martin and his stepbrother Rich in. "Come on, guys, time's a wastin'!" he said in a gruff voice, his greasy long hair falling in his face. He breathed in his smoke real deep, held it, and let it out in a forceful stream. Meanwhile, Lawson, his crewcut, gum chewing partner, was rubbing his temples and shutting his eyes, complaining, "Not so loud, Red, Jesus." To which Hunt just laughed, "You never could handle your wine, Lawless." The boys hopped in through the open door and sat next to two ne...