One morning you wake up and take a speed ball, and feel bugs under your skin. 1890 cops with black mustaches block the doors and lean in through the windows snarling their lips back from blue and bold embossed badges. Junkies march through the room singing the Moslem Funeral Song, bear the body of Bill Gains, stigmata of his needle wounds glow with a soft blue flame. Purposeful schizophrenic detectives sniffat your chamber pot. It's the coke horrors.... Sit back and play it cool and shoot in plenty of that Gl M. Day of the Dead: I got the chucks and ate my little Willy's sugar skull. He cried and had to go out for another. Walked past the cocktail lounge where they blasted the Jai Lai bookie.

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