Cocaine soup with titty snacks

Each might have been a week except for night's failure to come and close the deal. When

The morning's light danced on the spine of the new bridge, which towered like the guts of a cosmic piano. The same light that agitated the picture windows of the gaudy homes tumbled so recklessly into...

exemplified the dull rigidity of Singapore's old colonial fantasies about itself.

Open duh computer. Germans ought to farm out all positions of petty authority. The accent remained too full of implication.

A simple, elegant game. Like riding a bicycle, once you've learned you can hardly fail to pick it up again, that is unless the brakes are out of order.

As Bruno neared, Stolarsky stepped from behind the door. His feet and legs were bare. He held a pistol, loosely, and wore nothing but a thin T-shirt. The darkness beneath its hem revealed as a...

The house on The Crescent, stepped into the hillside, had no face. In

Hospital turned out to represent a punctuated tedium, the recurrence of blood pressure and temperature checks, the placement and emptying of bedpans and painful switching of IV lines from the crook of...

First, however, and feeling real excitement at the thought, the good burst of adrenaline at last, Behringer wanted to dismantle the sockets and loosen his patient's eyes. Behringer

On Telegraph, she stopped him in front of Walgreens, put the sack into his hands, a finger to her lips. "I'll come back." He was left to contemplate the sidewalk, full of listless earring vendors...

Baader-Meinhof Group, they are Called. "" Yes.

Not everything needed to rise to converge: It could just drift together into the indiscernible middle, and bewilder you.

Bruno's brain might have parachuted somewhere over the Atlantic.

Minutes died serially into hours. Bruno

His ironies were ghoulish now.

The lowliest European functionary-a border inspector, say-dressed immaculately, and furnished even a cubicle to lend an impression of respectability. A truly wealthy man, like Stolarsky, pronounced...

The clacking of the checkers on the hardwood points was the music of honest thought, resounding in silence as it navigated the fortunes told by the pips on the dice.

Her presence was sturdy and watery at once, arms weirdly muscled, nipples like small tongues riding on the mercurial flesh that glided on his surface, thighs smooth to where his fingers plummeted...

I am exiting the wider world, to return to my homeland of bullying, psychosis, and bad taste. Forgive me. It is a medical matter. Once