The Bitch
“I stood there in the men’s room of the Siesta Palm Bar and Grille, over on Ninth and Central, and read this on the wall. It didn’t make me feel any better. It was written in drunken Old English script with a blunt black pencil, across the white-wash.
I went over to the sink and washed up and finally faced myself in the mirror on the towel rack. I looked as if I’d been shot through a cannon, was approaching the net, and knew I would miss it. My eyes were a little wild, and I needed a shave. The ...light tan suit I’d started out with was splotched and wrinkled and spotted. I fitted in perfectly with the clientèle of this bar. Turning, I stepped deftly to avoid a bit of careless splattering across the wet stone floor, and moved out into the barroom.
The air was slightly better here.
A hill-billy band sawed away on a low podium across the room, and a jammed mêlée of men and women in various stages of acute alcoholic distress laughed, argued, sang, and drank among the booths, tables, and at the bar.MoreLess
I went over to the sink and washed up and finally faced myself in the mirror on the towel rack. I looked as if I’d been shot through a cannon, was approaching the net, and knew I would miss it. My eyes were a little wild, and I needed a shave. The ...light tan suit I’d started out with was splotched and wrinkled and spotted. I fitted in perfectly with the clientèle of this bar. Turning, I stepped deftly to avoid a bit of careless splattering across the wet stone floor, and moved out into the barroom.
The air was slightly better here.
A hill-billy band sawed away on a low podium across the room, and a jammed mêlée of men and women in various stages of acute alcoholic distress laughed, argued, sang, and drank among the booths, tables, and at the bar.MoreLess
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