WRITERS REEK OF ALCOHOL

Jack O'Connell, the great unpublished novelist, and Estanislao Contreras, author of Chicano Fuck Songs, met downtown for breakfast.

"You look like shit," said Contreras.

"I feel like shit," answered O'Connell. "I took a Xanax to ease the pain."

O'Connell invoked the spontaneity clause the previous evening when Tony Gray, State Representative Rene Oliveira's right-hand man, suddenly materialized at his front door.

"Tony and I threw caution to the wind and decided only in danger exists excitement," explained O'Connell as he held his coffee in both his shaking hands and sipped the steaming elixir with his eyes closed.

"Tony and I dived into the belly of the beast. We crossed to Matamoros. It was nasty. I thought I had finally caged the animal, but it escaped last night. When the monster smells meat, it roars."

Contreras laughed.

"On this rampage, did you and Tony solve the world's problems after you had sated yourself on the flesh of your victims?"

"We have control over only two aspects of our being--our health and our jobs. As long as we are healthy and we are working, there are possible solutions to the other challenges we face in our lives."

Contreras slurped huevos rancheros into his mouth.

"How are you faring in those two departments?" questioned the controversial poet.

"My system is filled with tobacco and alcohol and god knows how many venereal diseases course through my body," sighed O'Connell. "And I'm abusing my sick leave. This binge is going to cost me two days in recovery time and I've already called in sick for tomorrow."

Contreras paid the bill. O'Connell went home and slept the rest of the day.

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