Herbert Moleville - 2. Better Luck

Dear Old Empty Milk Carton,

I will have ta keep this brief, since there ain't a lot of room on ya that ain't fulla writin' and pictures of cows.

When I waked up this mornin', if indeed it were morning, stuff was still the same. I ain't lost hope yet that things'll get set right, cuz the good lord say it's a sin to lose hope. I guess cuz losin' stuff's irresponsible, and bein' irresponsible ain't right.

I sawr a light on in a hotel window today. I figgered that was kinda strange, since it looks like all the rich folks done away with most of the artificial lights. (Some people just don't know how good they got it.) The lobby door was unlocked, even though it looked pretty dark inside. Some fool went and jammed a sofa right up against the door on the other side, so I had to shove kinda hard to get in. Don't seem like there's much folks round to complain these days about a body lettin' hisself into establishments uninvited, which is something else I been meaning to ponder over when I feel up to it.

I ain't complaining, though. It's a nice sofa. Looks like a good place for a body to get some well-deserved shut-eye.

I hope I dream about pancakes again.