a lot of shit about that night, but me, I ain't talking. It is what it is, a Brodie, that's how it goes sometimes. We all had too much to drink, sure, but I'm not saying I couldn't handle my hooch- I can handle my hooch.It just colors things though you know? Just like that mouthy nigger. Yeah that mouth was part of the problem. And then there was the sister- prettiest kitten with gams going straight up to heaven and I wanted me a piece of that heaven. Had to show her how real men are, flex a little muscle you see? She laughed at my lady tattoo, hell, I had an in. Distracted you could say. Grace could be the bridge to that though. Grace is a tough broad, a better mate than that scrub son-in-law. No offense. But this whole thing could have been cleared up long ago. Maybe he should have called on old Jones back then. It wouldn't have even made the last page of the sports section. You know, quietlike. But I wouldn't have met Grace I guess, and certainly not that sweet dish, daring me to show her how a real man does it. So no, I ain't gonna talk about that night. Especially since the lawyers say to keep it shut, especially since I'm a God damn hero now- eat with the officers these days. They even pat me on the back. I don't shine shit or eat shit no more. I get fan mail now, can you believe it? Fucking fan mail- letters from dames stateside thinking of Deacon. Aces I'm telling you. It's all coming up aces.

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