/lit/ - Literature

>I walked into that grimy speakeasy with a thirst to kill and some scratch to burn and wet from the rain. You'd need a machete to cut through the cigarette smoke . The whole shady cast of characters was in attendance, sticking out through the murk like statues in a foggy graveyard. Fat Ass Moreno yabbered away as usual to some bored looking broad. I could hear all the stupid shit he was saying from all the way from the coat checkin. Stinky Pat Goggins was busy getting involved with a rapid fire round of whiskeys shots, his face so red with alcoholism it practically glowed in the dark. Then there was Henry Sharkface, skulking in the corner as usual. He always sat there alone, his back to the wall to keep him from getting whacked from behind, eyes facing the entrance so he can catch em first.

>Through it all though Betty Lou Higgins shined like a beacon up on the stage. Damn what a broad. Her dress glittered like I'd imagine angels would, catching the few bits of light in the room and sending them all back out which made it look like she was the source of it. She crooned mournfully, singing a song of the man who wasn't there , her hair glossy like some kind of pure bread mare's tail or something.

>I stood there as if I was admiring a work of art, the yearning in my soul was more than booze could fix.If she is a diamond, I'm a hunk of lead.