Yesterday, before the cocktail hour, I went shopping for loopholes. Bridget said it’s been her life-long dream to own one. Downtown, I felt like an animal lost in an animal city. So many attorneys. Fortunately, I was my other self, so I was able to take full advantage of my tricky symptoms. Of course, I’ve never been a big fan, but my reputation preceded me. As is often the case with heroes, it was said about me, We can’t say enough about him. No use flying off the handle, especially at gratuitous compliments. Who am I to accuse others of making false accusations? Transitions, like homicides, are always so difficult. Little Monte wouldn’t let me get away with murder. There aren’t enough bodies to go around, he said, although, if the truth be told, I nearly dropped a bomb on myself. But that was before I realized, sooner or later, something has to kill you. Like Oedipus said, if you can’t beat them, join them, particularly if you’re not sure whose side you’re on. I made the strongest case I could make against cannibalism. No way I’m going to get pink-eye. Not like I did last time.

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