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| It's late and I've been walking the streets for ages. A sign shows that I'm still on Sunset Boulevard, between the glamour and misery of Hollywood. The smell of Mexican food rises from a diner, while mariachi music and the hum of a neon sign mix through the air. The wind rips a letter from my hand. It was one of those days you curse from the start. In the morning, the radio warned of the Santa Ana winds. "Anything can happen," Raymond Chandler said, and it did. At Universal Studios, I drove my tour bus like I always did, but instead of waiting for the water to part, I just kept driving. Tourists weren't happy. That was it for my job. I drank myself drunk with my last paycheck. At least Barbie was waiting for me at home - I thought. Instead, I found a farewell letter. Jobless and alone, there was a knock. But it was just the repo man coming to get my car. |
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