If you have ever set up concerts at the local dance hall, you'll know what I mean.
Coke, smack, speed, you fucking name it.
This is stuff to fuel Back to the Future prom nights.
Fasten your seat belts folks, this is going to be a ride through psychedelia with the omnipotent William Burroughs breathing heavily down the nape of your sweat-stained neck.
J.D. Strange is real.
He's not a figment of my imagination.
I've spoken to him, off my fucking head on diet pills.
I was with my partner in crime, the octogenarian dyke spy who was recently recruited for Big Tit Inc.
Wait.
A giant cockroach does a lap around my bedroom.
I spray the fucker.
It won't die and does a victory lap around my walls.
The last one I caught in my hand dribbled saliva juice all over it.
Not this time.
I nearly died from pesticide poisoning.
But the cockroach would not live another day.
It was controlled remotely by Dr. Strange who wanted to get some smut for blackmail purposes.
All he could come up with was a black market photocopy of The Circus, which were sold at some hole-in-the-wall book shop on Khoa San road.
Dr. Strange is taking us places.
The Circus is the greatest game of them all.
It's showtime folks.
Ladies and Gentlemen, embrace yourself for some lion mauling.