Playboy
September, 2015
A BIlftR/dklERAL, A COPY OF A LOT 0F BOOZE AND A PLAN TO SET THINGS RldHT I heard sobbing that spring Saturday afternoon and walked down the back stairs to see who was crying. My downstairs neighbor—Jane—was sitting on the wood picnic table, bawling her eyes out and smoking a cigarette. "What's wrong?" I said. "Oh Jesus, John," she said. I had startled her, by accident, coming through the back door. "He went to that funeral and now he's at the wake and it's horrible.&quo...
