Friday, February 16, 2007



At first it was just Bennie and me, hauling ass along US 87 in the brand new '65 Ford Galaxie 500 convertible I'd stolen back in Denver. We'd had the top down all morning, and the high plains wind was whipping us like dogs. Bennie was having a hard time keeping his hat on, and the sight of him clamping that stupid out-dated fedora to the top of his head gave me a sudden fit of the giggles. I banged on the horn a few times to punctuate my amusement, swerving dangerously.

"Where the hell do you think that hat's going to go, you mangy reptile?"

Bennie flicked his elegant tongue lazily in my direction and gave me the evil eye.

I howled.


Due to the nature of my disease, it's impossible to be absolutely certain of anything; but I believe that I have met The Devil and lived to tell about it; and I believe that if you meet him, he'll as soon wear your own face as another...

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