Chapter 7

           WecameinlowoverKansasCity,thepilotsaidthetemperaturewas20degrees,andthereIwasinmythinCaliforniasportscoatandshirt,lightweightpants,summerstockings,andholesinmyshoes.Aswelandedandtaxiedtowardtherampeverybodywasreachingforovercoats,gloves,hats,mufflers.Iletthemallgetoffandthenclimbeddowntheportablestairway.TherewasFrenchyleaningagainstabuildingandwaiting.Frenchytaughtdramaandcollectedbooks,mostlymine."WelcometoKansasShitty,Chinaski!"hesaidandhandedmeabottleoftequila.Itookagoodgulpandfollowedhimintotheparkinglot.Ihadnobaggage,justaportfoliofullofpoems.Thecarwaswarmandpleasantandwepassedthebottle.

           Theroadwayswerefrozenoverwithice.

           "Noteverybodycandriveonthisfuckingkindofice,"saidFrenchy."Yougottoknowwhatyou’redoing."

           IopenedtheportfolioandbeganreadingFrenchyalovepoemLydiahadhandedmeattheairport:

           "...yourpurplecockcurvedlikea...

           "...whenIsqueezeyourpimples,bulletsofpusslikesperm..."

           "OhSHIT!"holleredFrenchy.Thecarwentintoaspin.Frenchyworkedatthesteeringwheel.

           "Frenchy,"Isaid,liftingthetequilabottleandtakingahit,"we’renotgoingtomakeit."

           Wespunofftheroadandintoathreefootditchwhichdividedthehighway.Ihandedhimthebottle.

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