Booze, Broads & Bullets...

my chest feels like someone hit it with a wrecking ball. Smoked too much again.

felt a little sleepy around 4, or 5. Stretched out in front of the TV.

...

woke up with a start to the jingle jingle of my telephone around quarter to 8.

I didn't answer. Instead I got up and went into the bathroom. I flipped on the light and looked at myself in the mirror.

...just checking.

Went back out to the living room and checked the caller ID. It was D, as I thought. Erase the voice mail and call him back.

"Hey."

"Yo."

"What are you doin?"

"Just got home."

"Cool. I'll be over in a few."

"Ok, hey- think you can pick up a 6 pack?"

"Sure. PBR?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. see ya."

"Ok."

So I get in the shower, wash off the sleepiness, and throw the same clothes back on. I tuck my .45 into the waist of my pants and toss on my coat.

It's gonna be another long night, probably. Alcohol and long nights are a common formula for the common boredom of a back-alley friday night in this city.

There's one thing for sure, I gotta head out there. It's never pretty, it's just a matter of whether or not you dodge the bullet one more night...