“You’re at the Monteleone.”
“So write something.”
Oh, like it just came to you.
“My God, at least drink something.”
Do I need to tell you about inflation?
“Ha! Lord, please tell me
you’re not always this boring.”
Only when I want to be.
Requires some concentrated effort.
“Son, that sounds entirely exhausting.”
It is. But I’ll come back and buy us a round.
“Now that, I’d like to see,”
said Faulkner’s ghost.
“At your speed, son,
this place’ll be full-up of spirits by then.”