holdensolo

I walked into the kitchen. Thanks to the heat wave, the power had been out all afternoon. Kiki sat in the corner, naked, reading a copy of John Fante's "Ask The Dust", a gallon jug of water that was usually kept in the fridge between her legs.

"What?" She asked as I looked at her. "It's hot in here!"

Don't let it end like this. Tell them I said something.

I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis.

I died once.

It was cool.