5
I plopped into the back of a taxi. It had been a long day hunkered at the poker table. I’d managed to scrape up three hundred dollars and hoped it was enough to cover the cost to repair my clunker car. Paying for taxis was becoming expensive.
The taxi pulled in front of All Celebrities Chapel. It’s an old brick building painted white with gold bells and wedding decals that frame a monstrous mural of famous celebrities’ caricatures, both new and old. And when I say monstrous, I don’t just mean big. Frankie had his breast-loving cousin paint the mural. It’s barely recognizable celebrities sporting jumbo jugs. But I do have to admit, after seeing painted flowing locks of hair on Frank Sinatra’s caricature, he might make a fabulous-looking lady.
As I stepped out of the taxi, I noticed the
