That great feeling when you put down something you (er, Jake) wrote for awhile, come back to it, and laugh…
Previously on Pop Culture Mysteries…
And now the Pop Culture Mysteries continue…
The Cotton Candy Alligator. What a place.
I’m not sure if crabs are airborne, but I felt itchy as soon as I walked through the double-doors.
The scent of body sweat and cheap perfume wafted up my nostrils as I was unceremoniously greeted by a bouncer who looked like a gorilla stuffed into an off-the-rack suit.
“Twenty bucks.”
Inflation’s a bitch. In my day, you could oggle exotic dancers for less than what you people pay for coffee today.
I wanted to debate the point with the goon, but he didn’t appear to be the talkative type.
I retrieved an Andrew Jackson portrait out of Karen’s envelope and handed it over. The mug lifted up the rope and let me in.
What a scene. The room was lousy with tawdry, painted-up hussies and assorted deviants who preferred to pay…
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Bookshelf Battle 