"She would never say...where she came from...Yesterday don't matter, if its gone.".....(the music in the Spoof Bar always had an uncanny knack for impailing one's feelings of the moment.)
I had spent several weeks, as we all had, recovering in a padded apartment next to Masterchev's and JOs upstairs at The Spoof. The Oracle had left us all in a state of chaotic, unimaginable madness. My head healed fine and with the drugs finally out of my system I could stand solid chocolate covered raisins again. But #3 was gone, where I knew not. Nobody would speak of it, they just shook their heads when I asked and begged. I sat at the bar, Skoob served me my favorite dark from Ireland. He shook his head as I downed half of it at one time. Merde, I thought, what careless bastard was allowing jasmine perfume loose near me.
"Come here often sailor?" her voice said, I dared not turn to look at the red head of my dreams, she continued, "They call me #4, but you can call me... Carina".......
"Okay," I said, slowly turning my head..."Meet me at the laundry chute in five minutes."........Somewhere a gerbil squeaked...
