Tuesday, May 14, 2013

EIGHT DAYS A WEEK: THERE'S A SLOT MACHINE IN THE MEN'S ROOM


As we approached the immense imitation-wood-paneled front desk, our faces were damp with sweat and smudged with dirt, the overall effect being sort of a mud pie with eyes.  My clothes were sticking uncomfortably to several key portions of my anatomy, and were rapidly growing colder and colder in the sudden near-arctic coolness of the grossly over-air-conditioned hotel lobby.

I felt like a bag lady.

--p. 221

Chapter 55 of Larry Duplechan's Eight Days a Week:

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