I keep a bowl at my bedside to spit in when I cough it up again. The blood, I mean. The point of this is that i don't have anything to spit in here. I'm in this shitty little dogtown hotel for a few days while I wait for some heat to die. Everything about the place screams Paddy-lice. I step out of the shower and my unwashed, threadbare towel smells like bad Italian food. This catches me off guard for two reasons. One, no one wants to smell old lasagna so early in the morning. Two, why would a Paddy fuck hotel towel smell like their arch enemy the I-talians? This is bad news for your anti-hero here. If the Pads and the Wops team up, my little game is over. I thought i'd be safe here.
I was wrong. Time to call in the team.
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