With No Attorney
… and here I am, with no attorney, slumped on a red plastic stool in Wild Bill’s Tavern, nervously sipping a Budweiser in a bar just coming awake to an early morning rush of pimps and pinball hustlers… with a huge Red Shark just outside the door so full of felonies that I’m afraid to even look at it.
But I can’t abandon the fucker. The only hope is to somehow get it across three hundred miles of open road between here and Sanctuary. But, sweet Jesus, I am tired! I’m scared. I’m crazy. This culture has beaten me down. What the fuck am I doing out here? This is not even the story I was supposed to be working on.
–Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas.
Oh, Hunter. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Until next time, Your friend,
Anita Thompson
