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I'm sitting at the Huddle House now, just watching and waiting. There are two cops sitting across the room--college campus cops. They have jurisdiction over the city now, so I'm fairly certain they're competing with the local police force for the highest number of free cups of coffee consumed during a single night's shift. They really have nothing better to do with their time, especially since Cochran's only black club was finally shut down, explaining why the only notable event th---

Well, I was going to tell you about how nothing really has happened around here since that one time a few years ago when two cops I knew got busted for alleged child molestation (which was completely unexpected and quite different than the drug trafficking charges that all of us who knew them...really knew them...thought they had gotten hit with), but my favorite Huddle House waitress beckoned me from my typing to come join her outside for a smoke since the throng of stoned black kids had finally finished their chicken wings and parted, giving her a long-awaited and highly deserved smoke break.

I eagerly packed my cigarettes, lighter, and cell phone in my pocket and dashed outside with a grin on my face--oh, and a crisp twenty dollar bill in my hand that I had hoped would be exchanged for three or four Percocets freshly swindled from a customer whose prescription-carrying husband was asleep in a motel room next door. Unfortunately, he had taken his last one. Sounds like bullshit to me, although you can't really argue with or be suspicious of someone who regularly feeds you little delicious morsels of her cancerous mother's Oxycontin just for keeping her company occasionally on her long-awaited and highly deserved smoke breaks.

That pretty much sums up the reason I am here at 3am on a Saturday night, alone with a laptop and a third cup of coffee with exactly eight swirls of sugar, trying to decipher the words of Bob Marley as he faintly croons from the overhead Muzak-fed speakers. I'm sure they're insightful, whatever they may be.

A group of adorable college boys just walked in, so I'm going to go have a smoke so it'll be easier to check them out. That was pleasant, but anticipatedly futile. If I could stop time, I would totally ass-rape them all. Well, not really. I like the chase, hence the reason you'll only ever catch me purposefully changing my nicotine intake patterns when there are semi-attractive and seemingly heterosexual boys within the vicinity.

...to be continued