Thursday, April 9, 2015
"I CAN DANCE WITH MY DRINK IN MY HAND"
"I can dance with my drink in my hand", she said insouciantly, and continued to do just that. As she twisted and turned in wild abandon, cognac spilled all over my white shag pile rug. As the flames in the fireplace licked out, I could tell this night was going to end in fire and blood and tragedy. Accepting this fate, I sat back in my armchair and lit a cigar and enjoyed this present vision.