AT HOME THAT WEEKEND, I WATCHED TEN THOUSAND bucks I’d bet on the Raiders against the Packers plunge down the shitter. Eleven grand with the vig. Eleven fucking grand. I would have done better to lay three grand straight across on a horse. Even if I had lost, I would have saved two grand, and the whole thing would’ve been over in minutes rather than hours. Jesus fucking Christ. I was insane.

I poured a glass of cold goat milk, took two ten-milligram Valiums, and sat there. The thought of fucking Melissa’s clothes passed through my mind. It might bring some sort of release, I told myself. But fuck it, I concluded. I was even mad at her pantyhose and shoes. I felt like killing somebody.