My social skills are pretty much gone now. I never force myself anywhere anymore. Because, mostly, I’ve already been and talk’s cheaper when it’s on some drinks. And I drive like a bastard back & forth back & forth, the country mouse shedding fur from the bed of a pickup truck. There was always a wood plank in there, some hay and feathers. I’m tired of steering columns.

I’ve never read anything like this. When Newt holds his hands out and says, “See the cat? See the cradle?” when I read that line the first time, perfectly cast and framed in my head, fucking A.

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