Chapter 29: Insult and Injury
I don’t know what time it is and nor do I care. The thunderstorm still r***s and pillages the sky, offering very little light inside the cottage since the electric is out. Hurriedly, I make my way upstairs, turn left, and find myself standing in Saul’s bedroom.
To my surprise, the man is awake. He sits on the bed, thumbing through a football magazine, unable to read the thing because the room is too dark and he is far too blitzed on a string of gin and tonics, among other alcoholic cocktails.
One thing I have learned in life is simple: you can’t talk any sense into a drunk, even if you try. It will be like rapping your head off the wall. God only knows why I give it a shot, though. Maybe because I’m so pissed at Saul and want to hear some explanation for th
