Because of the car situation of the previous blog and my punishment for doing everything last minute and not checking the details, I'm sitting on a bench next to a random parking lot in the middle of la where flixbus does their pickups and drop offs with a 5-hour layover until 6:00 a.m. at least shortened 50 minutes thanks to cops shutting down the 101 freeway in the middle of the East LA interchange for some reason so we sat in standstill traffic for half an hour and then the driver backed the

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Oh, watch him lie on his lounge, that old Aragón, that sharp fella. Covered in that velvet red robe of his, sipping idly from a cup of whiskey. There's a man you'd call a friend. There's a chap you'd call when there's trouble -- not because he can help, but he can stand there looking, make a witty quip.

You could kiss him, right now, but you won't. Because you know Aragón, that sharp fella. You know that cup looks like it's full of whiskey, but chances are, it's full of cum.

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