Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron’s Guitar Chronicles.
I was right about one thing, Belle sure could medicate me. She made me take four aspirin, drink a can of ginger ale, and gave me a slug of cough medicine for good measure. “Jacket fits?” she asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t want to take it off even though I knew that might bring the fever down. I just felt cold, cold, cold, and the coat was lined and warm.
“You function okay when you’re stoned?”
“When you’re stoned. Do you function? Can you deal?” Her maroon lips slowed down for me.
“Yeah, I guess.”
She gave me the bottle of cough medicine. “Then hang on to this. In a couple of hours you can take another swig. If it knocks you out too much, you can take a nap in my office.” She moved a stack of papers off the couch. “Do you remember what floor this is?”