the smuggler’s bible


The situation has deteriorated considerably from its midafternoon zenith, when Paz had the cash in hand and a clear vision of the various debaucheries it would facilitate.

Metaphorically, he can still see that high-water mark, left when the tide went out and stranded his scheme upon rocky shores. Literally, he’s confronted by an awful tile pattern from the ’70s as he balances on a trash can in the supermarket’s restroom, trying to reach a vent high on the wall.

He’s not going to fit, even if he could get to it. He knows this. But fuck it, quitters never win.