The ghoul made a noise similar to a cat sneeze and said, “If you want I could loan you some money.”

I choked a little. “What the f—”

Before I could finish he had produced a wad of cash you could kill a man with. And from where I was sitting I could see that it was all in twenties and hundreds.

I swigged the last drops from the glass and stood. “Where the hell did you get that?!” I yelled.

“From my fellow ghouls,” he droned. “All monies made by ghouls are thrown into a collective slush fund for everybody to enjoy.”

“What are you, dead or a hippie?!”

“What is a hippie?”

I waved him off. “Never mind.” I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t mean no disrespect, but what the fuck do you need money for?”

“Cabs.”

I held back my laughter. “Could you loan me a few bucks so . . . I . . . ah . . . can get a few things?”

There was a short pause. “Sure, here’s forty.”

“Thanks,” I said laughing a bit as I took the bills from his big white hand. “You suppose you could watch over the place while I pop to the store for a few necessities?”

He agreed. I put on a jacket and grabbed a baseball cap I’d grown out of about ten years ago. But I liked it, so I stuck it on the back of my head and left the office.

I walked out the door of my house, and, as if on cue, it started raining. Just a drizzle, but enough to piss me off, and it was that shitty L.A. rain. Hot and wet. It might sound good in a porno movie, but in real life it sucked ass.

I walked fast down Laurel Canyon to Ventura and as I moved closer to the liquor store I saw a guy leaning against a wall ahead of me. I could see he was trouble. Long, lanky, and greasy with a wide smirk on his face as he watched me approach. At first I thought he might have been a ghoul, maybe a fiend, or even a goon, but as I got closer I saw he was just human.

When I was within several feet of him, he looked right at me and his smirk widened. “Nice hat,” he said.

I smashed my fist across the side of his nose and felt it snap beneath my knuckles. “Nice nose,” I said, and kept going without losing a step. Fucking loser.

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t look back, but I could hear the guy “Oh my god!”-ing, and “Jesus Christ!”-ing. I felt pretty good. Might be a good night after all.

I bought a big, jug-sized bottle of whiskey, a case of good cheap beer and a carton of cigarettes. I had enough left over so I grabbed a lighter and a large bag of chips for dinner.