Butte, Montana to Cairo, Egypt — in one great leap.
In great news, I sold a book to Daredevil Doug. Unreal.
In less great news, I was accosted by a drunk idiot who said, out-of-the-blue: “Why would I buy something as stupid as a book? I wouldn’t buy a book about Evel Knievel if you shoved it up my ass.”
Perhaps this was his secret desire?
At any rate, a seven or eight-year-old little girl came up to me, immediately afterwards. She said: “Would you like a potato?” And sure enough, she was holding half of the raw potato that she’d been using as ammunition for her potato gun.
I thanked her but declined the offer. Children are beautiful; it’s only as we age that we become genuinely cruddy.