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couchgrouch last won the day on April 13

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  1. Ghosts

    Ghosts ©2017 Robert George BMI I’ve got gypsy rover in my roots and I was raised to travel There are certain places I can feel the spool of time unravel Some say history is sand but I say history is fluid Dripping from the breasts of Nefertiti on the tongues of Druids From the phantom engineers of ghost trains in the foggy Balkans To the skulls of modern buccaneers in sunken Pirate Falcons From the weeping wives who oiled and wrapped the corpse of Tutankhamen To the dancing shadow of an undead Maricopa shaman Though it’s an unsolved mystery It matters the most If the scroll of world history Was written by ghosts When I’m standing at an Arizona crossroads in a cool rain I can see a blurry caravan of wagons and a mule train Peaceful spirits in the ruins of a Spanish monastery Spectral paladins that guard an old Apache cemetery Ghostly Sopwith Camels over Europe with eternal pilots Bullet-ridden paratroopers dying on a bed of violets Pipers play Amazing Grace among the heather of the Highlands And it soothes the bones of lost Marines in south Pacific islands Though it’s an unsolved mystery It matters the most If American history Was written by ghosts Destiny is one more cardboard castle One more king and one more queen One more fortune teller Whose demise was unforeseen Death is like the smoke arising from a fallen dueling pistol Or the grey reflection in an old Romani woman’s crystal It rides double with a skeleton upon a midnight Harley And it mounts the wind that swims through moonlit North Dakota barley So I tread my boots across the earth and track its spells and curses And I sleep with doubt and wake with faith in other universes Dreamy worlds of apparitions that my spirit might inherit But I’ll only walk a cosmos that my present dreams will merit Though it’s an unsolved mystery It matters the most If my family history Was written by ghosts
  2. Small Pharma

    Small Pharma ©2017 Robert George He got a university PHD In chemistry Came home and was employed As a drive-thru droid Tried to relax His achin’ back Took expensive pills to cure his ills Nuthin’ worked but now He grows somethin’ that will Small pharma It’s good for what ails you Small pharma When Rite-Aid fails you It’s what they call karma When your frazzled nerves Get what they deserve Fate has made a local man a medic Now he sells a yokel anesthetic He’s small pharma He’s sowin’ seed and growin’ weed Yeah, it’s guaranteed Just a couple o’ tokes Your pain goes up in smoke It’s smart to avoid An opioid All those pills you popped But the pain ain’t stopped No sweat, don’t fret His field will yield A whole new crop Small pharma It’s good for what ails you Small pharma When Rite-Aid fails you It’s what they call karma When your frazzled nerves Get what they deserve Fate has made a local man a medic Now he sells a yokel anesthetic He’s small pharma You might git hooked on Oxy But hey, what’s the point If your joints are swollen Smoke a big fat joint Small pharma It’s good for what ails you Small pharma When Rite-Aid fails you It’s what they call karma When your frazzled nerves Get what they deserve Fate has made a local man a medic Now he sells a yokel anesthetic He’s small pharma
  3. Farm Girl in the Straw

    Farm Girl in the Straw ©2017 Robert George BMI Well, that Chevy over-heated Just outside her dusty farm I was fifty miles from Little Rock, And I held that shiny Glock like a lucky charm She was hoein’ by the fence line When I walked up to the gate She looked kindly on a stranger’s plight, Told me I could stay the night cos it was getting’ late Said I’d better sleep out in the barn Cos she lived with her old granpa So I propped my head against a wagon-wheel And with one eye on the road across the field I dreamt about the long arm of the law And a farm girl in the straw It was sometime after midnight When I saw her silhouette She was backlit by an amber moon And we shared a kiss I wouldn’t soon forget With a wink she said to watch the noise Cos she lived with her old granpa O the southern wind was blowin’ cool n soft As we climbed the ladder to the loft There’s no tellin’ how much the scarecrow saw Of the farm girl in the straw Come the dawn I kissed her deep and said I had to go Fixed the car and drove it ninety into Mexico I was wanted for a bank job back in Arkansas But I couldn’t forget the farm girl in the straw She almost didn’t recognize me With that scruffy beard I’d grown But an untamed flame will always burn And she was sure that I’d return for the seeds I’d sown Now her granpa’s restin’ with the Lord And I’ve learned to live within the law There’s a bag of hundreds hidden in the barn Come the spring a baby blessed the farm And to this day I am still in awe Of the farm girl in the straw
  4. I Wish There Was a Way

    I Wish There Was a Way ©2017 Robert George BMI I wish there was a way That my soul could reach beyond confining flesh And behold the hand that keeps each sunrise fresh I wish there was a way That my murky faith could pierce this mortal fog And engage my God in shining dialogue But that river can’t be crossed Cos my heart is dark and clouded O this world is all but lost And the universe allowed it I wish there was a way I could puzzle out this life before my death Yet still keep the myst’ry that inspires breath But that river can’t be crossed Cos my heart is dark and clouded O this world is all but lost And the universe allowed it I wish there was a way That my soul could reach beyond confining flesh…
  5. Teenage Graceland---A Novel

    hobosage...that's a good idea. my blurb on Amazon is a little dry. I have a call into them about putting all three of my books on one page so people can easily see them. When they call back I'll ask them if I can change my blurb. Thanks.
  6. Teenage Graceland---A Novel

    buy it...you'll like it, haha.
  7. It’s been said we can’t turn back the pages of time. True enough. But we can re-write them so that they’re a little funnier, scarier, more romantic and yet leave them just as sad as reality. Sad has its place. My parents moved around a lot. We stayed in some towns a matter of hours. The longest we remained in one town was Willcox, Az. We stayed about nine months as I recall. Then my dad uprooted us to Salinas, California where we broke that record and stayed for nine years. There was a “scene” at the Northridge Mall in the late 1970’s that has held a special place in my heart for nearly forty years. I’ve always felt there was a story to tell about that time and its inhabitants. It would take a multi-volume work to even begin to capture it accurately. This is just a slice of that memory. That slice needed a dash of spice to knit the rest of the ingredients together and make them sweeter. And then, finally, bittersweeter. It’s an Oprah/Doctor Phil world now where people go on talk shows and spill their insides about their pasts. Vent their spleens about every perceived childhood dysfunction that led them to being the complete fuck-ups they are now. Facebook has only added to that pathetic phenomenon. That is not my intention with Teenage Graceland. My intention first and foremost is to entertain. So, I hope I’ve written something that’s funny, scary, romantic and yes, sad. It’s gonna cost you 2.99 to find out… …but here’s a taste. Rupert’s toupee was his crown. He kept leaning to his right and peeking in the rearview mirror. His grin looked like the bottom half of Charlie Brown’s head. “Ten years younger, Rupert old boy. Twenty, I dare say.” And the guy at Hair Trigger said the glue could withstand an F-5 tornado. Rupert had also been combing Grecian formula into his beard and moustache. Jessica loved his new look. And tonight she was gonna show it. Again. He had two hours to get to her apartment in Hollister and then back to Carmel before his wife got off work at McDonald’s. She’d always resented his success. She just couldn’t face the fact that his talents were…one more peek in the rearview…lookin’ suave, M’man…Christ, there’s a cop flashing his lights behind him. Rupert glanced at the speedometer. Seventy-two. Seventeen miles an hour over the limit. Damn. If he gets a ticket he’ll have to explain what he was doing there. “Why, Isabelle, Sweetums…I wuz gonna pick up some perfume at the Emporium and the Grease soundtrack at Musicland. Our anniversary’s right around the corner.” “Three months is right around the corner, Pooh-Bear.” “Of course they have nicer shops in Carmel than Salinas. I just didn’t want any of your friends to see me buying them. You know how they talk…” Rupert took a deep breath. She’ll buy it. She has to. He looked in the rearview again and the swirling red and blue lights eclipsed the rising moon. It floated above the CHiP car like an engorged mosquito…fat and full of blood. Pray God this cop isn’t Buford T. Justice. Whoa…more like Xaviera Hollander. A lady cop with an hourglass bod. Like that cop in The Gumball Rally. He checked his toupee and prepared to work some charm. He might not have to flash that fiver he kept near his license for just such an occasion. Hold on…why was she doubled over? Did she drop her pencil? She seems to be convulsing. Her silhouette is jerking wildly. Something is wrong with her face. He didn’t notice that shnozz before. Christ, that makes Streisand’s beak look like a shirt button. Rupert’s eyes were stitched to the rearview of his Dark blue ‘76 Nova. The lady cop’s uniform was ripped and seemed to hang off her body. Her gun belt snapped and fell to the asphalt. Then she stopped spasming and stood erect. Did she just grow a foot and a half? Wait, where’d she go? He looked to his left and saw a uniform hanging loosely from…a huge dog? It was standing before the driver’s door. Two hairy paws dangling at its side, each sporting five two inch claws that were in constant motion. A long snout came bursting through the window. Jaws full of ivory daggers gaped wide and seized Rupert’s throat. He looked into two dark, blank eyes and saw his loving wife of twenty-four years. He saw all her sacrifices, patience and devotion. The sickening crunch of his windpipe was barely heard over the months of poorly concocted lies and schemes running through his mind. His future sprayed in a lurid shower all over the steering wheel, dashboard and windshield. The beast backed up and dragged Rupert’s rag doll corpse through the window, ripping flesh and sinew on shards of glass. It dropped him on the asphalt and knelt to feed. Two headlights shone briefly in its eyes and continued heading north. The beast consumed Rupert’s viscera and genitals then started on his head. Rupert’s skull snapped and popped like a nightmarish bowl of Rice Kripsy’s. The beast threw its head back and gulped greedily. Then it began shaking its head wildly from side to side, choking and beating its chest. It leaned over and coughed out a sticky, mangled clump of hair. It stood erect once more and caught its breath. Bright lights shone on its bloody snout and a horn blared. Ralph Ramirez was staring at the dotted lines on 101 but he was watching last night’s episode of Chico and the Man. It wasn’t as good without Freddie Prinze but it was still worth a few guffaws. Especially after an ice cold Bud or four. Holy SHIT...what is THAT? Ralph hit the horn on his Freightliner a split second before it splatted into a large dog standing upright beside a red mound of….what? He stomped on the brake like it was a giant roach and steadied the wheel. The eighteen wheeler fish-tailed slightly but didn’t jack-knife. It stopped two hundred feet away in the right lane. Ralph looked in his left side view and saw a long, crooked streak of wetness glistening beneath his tail lights. Small pieces of cloth were stuck to the blacktop and they flapped in the light, westerly breeze. They formed a ghastly bread crumb trail back to a dark car parked in front of a CHiP cruiser with its lights tangoing on top. Santa Maria, how’d he miss that? He knew how. Ralph opened the door slowly, looked out and hopped down. He spotted a call box about a quarter mile back on his side of the road. There were headlights approaching quickly. He jumped back up in the cab, reached behind the seat and pulled out several road flares. Ralph jogged to the rear of the trailer and set two flares about twenty feet behind it. The approaching cars slowed and began to pass around the truck in single file. Was that a paw twitching on a white dotted line? Jesus, those were long-ass claws. He set three flares along the side of the Freightliner, then climbed back in the cab. He grabbed a Burger King bag from the passenger floorboard, whipped a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled on the bag. “Gone to call box ¼ mile north. Back in 10. Ralph Ramirez, driver.” He jumped down and reflexively looked toward the paw. It was a human foot, now lying still. The toenails appeared to be painted red. Ralph rubbed his eyes and started jogging toward the call box. His mind raced and zig-zagged with confusion. “It couldn’t have been a paw. You can’t tell the cops it was. It’s only been a few hours since you popped that speed. They’ll find out. You’ll lose your job and your license. Back to sanitation. IF Chevio can get you your job back. And it’ll be graveyards. Ten to six up to your knees in shit till you retire. Or jam a gun in your mouth. And wasn’t that dog standing up? Don’t-say-a-word, Ralph you fuckin Pendejo.” https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0775XK5CW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1509818282&sr=1-1&keywords=teenage+Graceland+Robert+George Robert George 2/4/2017
  8. The Year of Loving Dangerously

    The Year of Loving Dangerously ©2017 Robert George BMI Well, I saw her at the market in the cereal aisle She had the same ethereal smile Torn n faded, tight Levi’s Deep n dark sapphire eyes Just like the night that I first met her Reflections of our past were shining in her wedding ring Time remembered ev’rything Stolen kisses, stolen cars Teenage sweat beneath the stars Lord, I know I never will forget her It was the year of loving dangerously Riding wild and crazy and free Mountain roads a hundred miles an hour Hundred proof moonshine and pure horsepower Startin’ fights n robbin’ stores Kickin’ ass n keepin’ score I remember how her mama hated me In the year of loving dangerously Even though she used to be a shy n studious girl She was drawn to the dubious world Of a young man on the run, Cos love and lust were one And our midnight life was magic O but then one night our burning love went up in flames When the heat came down I took the blame They read me my rights Dragged me off in cuffs that night And our last kiss felt so sweetly tragic It was the year of loving dangerously Riding wild and crazy and free Mountain roads a hundred miles an hour Hundred proof moonshine and pure horsepower Startin’ fights n robbin’ stores Kickin’ ass n keepin’ score Once her mama even took a shot at me In the year of loving dangerously Yeah, we did it hard n fast And Girl, we did it all Though it’s in our distant past From your smile I know you still recall The year of loving dangerously Riding wild and crazy and free Mountain roads a hundred miles an hour Hundred proof moonshine and pure horsepower Startin’ fights n robbin’ stores Kickin’ ass n keepin’ score And toward the end her mom respected me In the year of loving dangerously
  9. Underage Thinking

    thanks Kuya.
  10. Underage Thinking

    Underage Thinking ©2017 Robert George BMI Well, I useta drive up in the foothills When I was just eighteen Park my rusty car, look up at the stars And I’d fill my heart with dreams I recall how innocent I was Ev’ry sip of life gave me a buzz That’s underage thinking Full of youthful ideals It felt so truthful and real Then somewhere along the line We let ourselves be blinded We stop taking a risk and shaking a fist At corruption And injustice Wherever we find it This world is a poison we insist on drinking all it ever does is kill underage thinking Sometimes I feel I’m losin’ int’rest In the things I see and touch Life starts lookin’ down, and the cash I count Doesn’t count for much Then I drive out to the hills I love Cos my spirit needs a long night of Underage thinking Full of youthful ideals It felt so truthful and real Then somewhere along the line We let ourselves be blinded We stop taking a risk and shaking a fist At corruption And injustice Wherever we find it This world is a poison That we keep on drinking all it ever does is kill underage thinking Each new day will feel sublime If I let my dreams drift back in time To underage thinking Full of youthful ideals It felt so truthful and real Then somewhere along the line We let ourselves be blinded We stop taking a risk and shaking a fist At corruption And injustice Wherever we find it This world is a poison we insist on drinking all it ever does is kill underage thinking
  11. She Likes 'em Dumb

    thanks kuya.
  12. She Likes 'em Dumb

    She Likes ‘em Dumb ©2017 Robert George BMI First it was a powerbroker, Then some loud mouth joker Who’s a wealthy talk show host Then a wind farm investor, A liberal arts professor With a mansion on the coast Some say she’s a gold-diggin’ witch Who just likes ‘em rich But that ain’t how it is No, she likes ‘em dumb Guys whose skulls are a little too numb All those idjits Are just mental midgets Who can’t walk and chew gum Those chumps are always stumped when they get dumped But she ain’t in it for the long run She’s just havin’ fun And she likes ‘em dumb A Silicon Valley mogul, His company’s goin’ global His office has a putting green Tycoons in the private sector, A Hollywood director With a hot tub in his limousine That reporter in New York And that Broadway dork They’re both big wigs in the biz But she likes ‘em dumb Guys whose skulls are a little too numb All those idjits Are just mental midgets Who can’t walk and chew gum Those chumps are always stumped when they get dumped But she ain’t in it for the long run She’s just havin’ fun And she likes ‘em dumb She knows silver and gold Can’t buy Cupid Rick or poor, young or old She prefers ‘em stupid Yeah, she likes ‘em dumb Guys whose skulls are a little too numb All those idjits Are just mental midgets Who can’t walk and chew gum Those chumps are always stumped when they get dumped But she ain’t in it for the long run She’s just havin’ fun And she likes ‘em dumb YEAH! She likes ‘em dumb She likes ‘em dumb…
  13. People Started Leavin' Town

    People Started Leavin’ Town ©2017 Robert George BMI Well, the outside world is in its death throes, So a buncha Goobers, Zekes and Jethros Built a small town near a risky no man’s land And Joe’d rather be an outlaw than a beggar, And if any place can hide a smart bootlegger Then a patch of misty lowlands can The molasses scent of burnin’ whisky Used to sweeten up the fog Then one night there came a government truck And it parked beside the bog Two guys dumped a bio-hazard barrel All along a gator’s den Come the next night somethin’ ate the livestock In poor Farmer Larry’s pen People lost their pets, a hunter lost his hound Then old Larry found a drifter’s arm, In a shallow frog pond on his farm Rumors sprouted up and people started leavin’ town Now, ole Joe’s a man who’s hard to frighten, One night he was reading Michael Crichton In his bungalow along a muddy riverbed He heard somethin’ out there in the mire, He set down his jug of liquid fire Went outside and found a bloody severed head Joe broke down and called the county sheriff And he came out to investigate Though the sheriff brought a bad-ass shotgun He just ended up as bait Travelin’ preachers went to heaven screamin’ Leavin’ nametags and their bikes Hippies smokin’ mushrooms reached nirvana On a moonlit nature hike Some said that Gatorzilla weighed five thousand pounds But Joe was a brave and stubborn man, He fin’lly came up with a plan Even though other people started leavin’ town He staked out a Billy goat, On a mound inside a moat That he filled with hundred-fifty proof Well, that goat began to bleat, Then the monster had his meat While ole Joe was watchin’ from the roof He soon heard that gator snorin’ on the ground The National Guard rolled in that night, Sony paid Joe for the movie rights He got rich when other people started leavin’ town Spoken… Now that gator’s in the San Diego zoo And ole Joe’s livin’ out in Malibu He set up a new still in his rumpus room Cos he missed the scent of swamp perfume Well, the smell of whisky started driftin’ all around But L.A. ain’t the Loo-Zee-Anna bog, Out there folks prefer the smell of smog And in no time people started leavin’ town…
  14. Am I Getting Too Close

    Am I Getting Too Close ©2017 Robert George BMI Well, you’re eyes are dark sapphires And your skin is smoother than a pearl Night is breathing with desire But you’ve always been a cautious girl There’s an old lighthouse’s silhouette On the cliff side up the coast High tide’s licking at our feet, And the air is salty sweet So tell me now Have I gone too far somehow O am I getting too close I can tell that you are thinking Love is just a reckless game of chance But tonight the stars are winking As if they are daring us to dance There’s a shroud of mist upon the shore And the full moon is a lonely ghost So I take your trembling hand, And we sway upon the sand So tell me now Have I gone too far somehow O am I getting too close Am I getting too close Girl, unless our love is built upon eternity It will soon become a castle washed into the sea So we sit beside the ocean Whispering about our dreams and plans And we feel the water’s motion Till our whispers turn into a dance It’s as if the night has always known To be needed’s what we want the most So I’ll kiss your soft, wet skin, And I’ll touch the soul within But tell me now Have I gone too far somehow O am I getting too close Am I getting too close Am I getting too close…to your heart…
  15. Life Wish novella

    Hi folks…I’m a little stymied about what to say but here it is. My novella is now available on Amazon Kindle for 2.99. It’s called “Life Wish” and I think I can recommend it with pride. Over the past few years I’ve been steadily running low on steam as far as enthusiasm for lyrics and poetry. I feel I’ve approached it from every angle conceivable and now it’s time to move on. I got the idea for Life Wish several years ago and originally planned on writing it as a screenplay. I abandoned that and wrote it as a novella. I’m very proud of it, especially since I’m even less drawn to changing my ways at fifty-two than I was when I first hit the internet in Feb. 1999. I’m fairly certain people will be entertained by it, or I wouldn’t have published it on Kindle. Below is a link or you can just do a search for “Life Wish, Robert George “, on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074Y87FPQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1503187384&sr=1-1&keywords=Life+Wish+Robert+George Here is an excerpt to give readers a sample of its flavor. There is a post on Musesmuse from 2014 in which someone mentioned they preferred my style of writing from when I first came on the internet to the style I developed later on. Anyone else who feels that way should enjoy the book. I hope they, and anyone else who buys it does. I’m grateful to all those who’ve read my stuff for nearly twenty years now, especially those who turned my lyrics in to wonderful songs. At any age, there’s always time for one more life wish. Robert George 8-19-2017 Claire walked to her prowler car, stood and looked around. The Camry. The VW bus. A calico cat staring through the glass door of the office. What could it hurt? Van Zandt’s off for two weeks starting tomorrow. She walked over to the VW and looked at the doors in front of it. She put her ear to a few. Then she walked up the cement stairs. They were stained with fossilized gum, bird shit, dried soda spills, a few shards of glass and cigarette butts. She put her ear to a few more doors, feeling like an Apache brave with his ear to some railroad tracks. Bingo…205. TV…Skinemax from the sound of it. She knocked firmly three times. She heard footsteps and a balding man in his mid-30s answered the door. No chain. Light brown hair that hadn’t been washed in weeks was imprisoned in a pony tail tied with a big rubber band. He wore a wrinkled white t-shirt with a decal on the front. It resembled that famous blurry picture of “Big Foot” strolling through the trees. He had a mole that looked like a melted Hershey’s Kiss on the left side of his upper lip. He spoke with a squeaky, rodent-like voice. “You’re early…aaand you’re dressed like a cop. Dammit, you’re supposed to be dressed in plain clothes, with a trench coat. Plus, you’re supposed to be a redhead. Fuck. Never mind…you’ll do.” He looked out the door, right and left. “Well…get in here.” Claire hesitated a moment. Just go with it. This guy seems harmless. And stupid. She walked in and looked around. A 40 of Schlitz and a bong with a naked girl on the side graced the night stand. Next to it was a baggie with a teaspoon full of white powder. A pack of beer nuts lay on the bed. The TV was blessed with a topless girl sudsing up a Bullit Charger with a big, purple sponge. In the bottom right hand corner of the screen was a PSA that read, “You are watching Wild Things 4 on Cinemax Ultra. Her mind wandered for a second…”You know, the first one wasn’t bad…Kevin Bacon’s bacon was…” His hands snaked around her waist from behind. “What do you say we get down to business, Agent Scully? I’ve got an alien ready to burst out of my pants…” She instantly wedged her hands between his arms and her waist and forced them out, breaking his light grip. She whirled and whipped her baton in one fluid motion, hitting him square across the midriff. He stumbled back, doubled over while holding both hands to his gut. His face was pointed down at the shit-brown carpet. He moaned, let out a hybrid of a burp and a hiccup, then he puked. Foamy gold liquid and beer nut splinters. He gasped for breath, his chest jerking up and down. He burped again and out dropped more splinters. Claire watched him without compassion, gripping the night stick like she was preventing it from whacking him in the head. He straightened up slowly. “Bitch, whadjyoudothatfor?” That stick really wanted to go upside his jaw. “If you wanted to get paid up front, you coulda just said so. I usually pay after.” “I’m a cop, you fucking moron. A real cop.” “A cop? What’re you doin’ here?” He hustled to the window and looked out the curtain. All quiet. He wiped a cobweb on his pants and said, “You alone? What is this?” “I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the other night, dipshit.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” He caught his breath for a second. She looked around a little more. An iPad on his bed was open to a webpage that said, “Talk of the Town” in tawdry red letters at the top. She looked at his feet. His toenails were more jagged than the glass on the outside stairs. She noticed a wet spot around his zipper. He saw where her eyes were looking and clasped his hands over his zipper. “I-uh-spilled my beer when you knocked.” “Pull yourself together, for Chrissake.” The stain had spread down his pants. He walked over by the bed and stepped in the sick. He wiped his heel on the carpet. “I told that guy the other night that I didn’t see nothin’” “Nothing?” “No. Wait, what…you think I did it??” “I kinda doubt it, Doc Holliday.” He was almost dispirited. “Then what?” “Just a follow up. That’s all. Walk me through it. What’d you see?” “I told you…I didn’t see a thing.” “Fine…what happened.” “I was working on my iPad and I…” “What time was this?” “Like I already told the other guy, sometime around seven.” “Ok, what then?” “I heard a loud bang that sounded like a backfire, maybe louder. I looked out the window and went back to doin’ what I was doin’.” “That’s it? You didn’t see a car driving off?” “NO!” “How long did it take you to get to the window?” “A few seconds.” Bu-u-u-rrrpp… “We’re you shitfaced?” He looked at his feet, then at the TV. She was drying off the hood. She… Claire waved the night stick in his face. “We’re you shitfaced?” “Yeah. So what? I…didn’t…see…nothin’.” He saw Claire looking at the bong and baggie. “Are you gonna bust me?” “Do you have any priors?” “No.” “You’ve never been arrested?” “No, I said.” “Keep it that way, Brainiac. You wouldn’t survive a week in jail. What’re you even doing in town?” Silence. “Well?” “I’m on disability.” “Oh---Kay…” “I—travel around and…report stuff.” “Stuff? To who?” He wiggled his right leg a little. His foot was wet. “Look…just forget it. Good-bye….for now.” She opened the door and saw a dyed red head in a trench coat walking up the stairs. She looked puzzled when she saw Claire. Claire shook her head, smirked and said as she passed her, “I hope you’re gettin’ top dollar for this one, Honey.”
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