The continuing adventures of Poor Tony, his entrance into the long hallway of the cold, Thanksgiving Day-related bird, is suitably sobering. The sections involving the member of the former trio of transvestite junkies always are. Reading them as a drug P.S.A., even silently, is, I think, the equivalent of throwing a hefty 1000+ page book in the general direction of dependency. It's the sort of thing to scare even the thing itself away.
The parts about E.T.A. and the wild extracurricular courses offered by the pro-rectors are a ridiculous counterpoint. Though the note about the one staff member filling the room with the stench of it does make me wonder just what vitamin B itself smells like.
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