Chapter Eleven
Thief
Every time I come to Los Angeles, I am reminded of why I hate Southern California: it is a breeding ground for billboards, neon lights, and garishness. The entire city looks like some sort of wet dream of General Motors because without a car in this town, you’re as good as dead! If you do have a car, you are at the mercy of hot pavement, traffic jams, and more stoplights than you’ve ever dreamed of. The tourists are thicker than mayflies on a corpse, and the buildings have as much character as a piece of drywall! I hate L.A.!
But, I came down here to do a job, and I intended to see it through. I had to deliver a threat to Sammy the Fish, a former mobster who was now semi-legitimate. He was a hard-working man who owned a vending machine business. His most prized poss
