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Showing posts from January, 2007

Milk Crates

A writer doomed by his lack of memory must resort to fiction or the testimony of an eyewitness. This is no fiction, dear reader. Sure my recollection is hazy, but I can still sense the emotions, the smearing lights, and the raving madness I inspired in the Village one night. On the approach to my lady's abode, after a considerable amount of carousing, I stopped at the corner store that we affectionately refer to as The Korean. I'm not sure of my motive, but judging from the angle at which I conversed with the merchant, I believe I was withdrawing money from the ATM to purchase more beer. The pressure on my kidneys was volcanic. I asked the merchant if I could use his restroom and he snarled at me and said he didn't have one. In the background, my lady said, “let's go home, you can use the bathroom there,” but I was vexed. "Criminal! Savage! To refuse your restroom is against the law! I shall call the police!” The merchant took this as an idle threat