Arthur Graham’s Reviews > Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild: Cautionary Tales > Status Update

"Where do you think a one-legged person goes shopping for shoes? I mean, are there shoe stores that sell a single shoe? Or do they have to purchase a pair and then they're stuck with a shoe that is useless? Possibly there's a support group that introduces them to another one-legged person missing the opposite leg, and they shop for shoes together."

"Break open one of those kilos and give me a blast. I'm not going to Hell sober!"

It’s the Saturday before Fat Tuesday “Mardi Gras” and New Orleans is in full swing like the tits on a woman jogger. The French Quarter is so packed you can tell what flavor of gum the person next to you in the crowd is chewing. The smell of vomit, piss, and day-old beer fills the afternoon air. It’s the aroma of a decaying city that shall rise from the pestilence, the filth and garbage on Ash Wednesday.

They are what most men secretly desire and almost every man wishes his wife was in the bedroom. They have performed more charitable acts than Mother Teresa herself. They don’t ask for your respect or understanding, only that you shove your snide comments and puritan opinions up your ass. So, speaking for all angels of the night, kindly go fuck yourself.

Two hours later and it's close to midnight. My speech has become so slurred, it is practically incomprehensible. I'm talking fast without punctuation, Chicago style, speaking total cocainese. I could run a marathon with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other, with Johnny on my back, I am so coked up by this point.

Cartagena, Columbia. A place so beautiful that even God couldn't believe he'd created it with his own hands. If he vacations, I have no doubt this is his destination. Gorgeous women, true angeles sin alas, obras de arte (angels without wings, works of art). If God created a woman more beautiful than these Colombianas, he must have kept her up in heaven for himself.

It’s dry. The whole city is dry. I can’t even locate a fucking mandrax or quaalude to take the edge off. The Chicanos on the Southside can’t scare up Xanax and there hasn’t been any decent heroin around in weeks. Swear I’d shoot cough syrup right now if it contained enough Codeine.