| OCR Text |
Show Coffee Drinkers Preferred Page 174 of 307 They both looked at the bushes and froze. Little Brother looking back at Big Brother. They didn't know if I had a friend or not but they knew how one video could wreck a pension; that's all it took sometimes to keep them from giving in to their darker natures. "He's bullshitting." "I'm complying." I stood up. "I'm up. I'm good. I was just going back to my hotel, officers. Nothing to hide. A few too many. My apologies. Won't happen again. "Where are you staying?" "Harrah's." "Let's see your key." I pulled the little key card out of my pocket. There was a little black strip on one side and the word Harrah's on the other. "What are you doing over here at the river?" That was a great question. Why was I there. Where was my other shoe. Why did my cheek feel like I had a run in with someone's right cross, why did my ribs ache and why were my knuckles scuffed? Effing Buddha. Apparently the Buddha had taken us to a plaza area that w,as vaguely reminiscent of the Zocolo of Oaxaca. There was an empty bottle of Gusano Rojo about ten feet away from me, near a low wall that separated the plaza from this river. He got weepy and nostalgic in his cups. Poor, poor Buddha. Pour him another. |
