I was watching a movie onceâ¦well not exactly. I was listening to a movie from a closet in a hotel room. I had just finished a bottle of Jack and was pressing a glass pipe to my lips but the movie said, âEvery great story is about a womanâ. This story is about two: Mercy and Starr. Mercy is a certifiable cunt. Starr, she has a temper like a cattle prod and a right hook that matches.â Excerpts from a letter to my mother, I never mailed or finished it. I love speed. This weekend I laid off it long enough to drink myself into a blackout. Right now I am flying down the 10 freeway headed east from Santa Monica. Passing Alhambra, I see a familiar street sign. Right now waking up from my blackout, I notice that Iâm driving. âFuck! Where am I?â I mumble. âCalm down, Carl. Okay, what is the last thing I remember?â I begin to look around the car. âI need something to drink.â I reach for a warm stale diet coke. âHow long has this been here?â I take a long swig. Remember to roll down your window before you spit stale warm coke out. âUh, warm. The artificial sweetener in diet drinks turns to a formaldehyde like substance when let warm while opened. Whereâs my Chap Stick?â I continue to mumble as I wipe the shit from my eyes. Whereâs my Chap Stick? âOkay, the signs,â I look around. âTen freeway, there's Garfield, there's Atlantic. So I'm east bound on the Ten, currently in Alhambra. This cannot be good. I'm so fucked. The last thing I remember isâ¦â âI was having trouble sleeping. I took four of my girlfriend's Vicoâs and washed it down with a pint of jack.â I lick my lips. âWhere's my Chap Stick? She left on a business trip last week. I quit asking where she's going. She said she'd bring back loads of cash. I quit caring how. Starr, she's a twisted hippie child. Her parents were hippies who converted back to Catholicism in the mid-eighties after five years of coke binges. Twisted. Her dad's a pharmacist. She told me this when we met. âHi, I'm Starr, My dad's a pharmacist!â It was true love.â âWhere's my Chap Stick? What time is it? Better yet, what day is it? I'm going up a hill. Fog. Morning! Look at my shoes. That's not going to help. I gave Irving my Doc's for a couple grams of methâ I swerve to avoid a big rig. âStarr, Twisted bitch. A couple of weeks ago she told me that I could pass for Jesus, sunken eyes, ribs showing, greasy hair. Once in high school, she asked a priest if she'd go to heaven or hell for sucking Christ's dick. He said he didn't know but he'd certainly give her an A in the class.â âWhere's my Chap Stick?â