It couldn’t be truer. It could not be more sickeningly accurate: Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was he.
"Another. It’s been a long night.” I took my glass of brandy to the corner of the bar and slumped myself into the nearest seat. My necktie was strangling me, so I yanked at it till the thing was loose, and let it slip to the floor. The more I drank, the faster time went by, and pretty soon I would lose track of the hours.