Chapter 10What a fuckin’ life, he thought, as he stumbled west on Catalpa, toward the shithole he called home. Dave Ellis’ whole body was singing with alcohol: the feet that carried him felt numb, almost as if he were drifting along on a cushion of air; the rest of his limbs felt the same. It was late enough so that the streets of Uptown were quiet for once: no squealing tires, no sirens, no horns blaring, no pneumatic wheezes as busses stopped to pick up and discharge passengers. The street lights above him dissolved into an amber sodium vapor haze when he lifted his bloodshot eyes to gaze up at them.
He was in no hurry to get home. All that awaited him was his fat, hairy wife (where had the young girl he had once f****d senseless gone? when had she been replaced by this greasy, corpulen
