Summary
Instead, I lowered my head and began beating it lightly with my fists. Then I noticed that the waitress's crotch was back beside my ear. A basket containing four halves of white bread, lightly browned at some of the edges, skidded across the tablecloth. 'Anything else?' Speaking directly to the crotch, as though it contained a microphone, I said, 'There is.
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Extract
A Rude Awakening
The help-yourself breakfast buffet was a single, waxed carton of orange juice (made from concentrate), and a stack of small upturned glasses. I filled one of these, tipped it down my throat, poured another and bore it to a tabl...
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