((whey!! FOP man down ))

The dawn leaks out from the city, draining away last nights atrocitys.

Zombie Pixe sat slouched in Lucky's, one whiskey wasnt enough these days.

ana'...

anuva wun pweese luck-k-ky.

He giggles to himelf as he downs the last of his current double. A book lies open infront of him, pages crickled, smudged and torn. To the astute sumariser, it would appear to be this man's novel. But the condition it was in tells of hard time's.

Tha... That bloody... THOSE bloody publishing company's. all, all i wanted to do was be a writ-t-ter, tha' was all...

The drunk lays messily on the bar. It was 10 o'clock in the moring, but he paid well, so lucky could afford to have him lower the tone slightly. Besides, the man was far too drunk to notice that he was now drinking watered down cola.