It's nice, this fucking city, in the dark. The snow and the ice. The bridges. The water. It's quiet. I just need some fucking quiet. We trashed the apartment so fucking bad, there's nothing to go back to. Last I saw Carl the Intern and Axelrod, they were going to drive the Civic into City Hall. They're probably fucking locked up now. Now it's just me and Axelrod's little puppy Hambone. Against the motherfucking world.
Found a spot under a bridge on Cortland. It's pretty here, and there's a hot air vent. This'll do. What a motherfucking fucked day. Woke up to Hambone licking my face. Now we're tossing chunks of ice into the river. Big fucking splash. Scared the ducks. The river water is brown like coffee, but it sure doesn't taste like coffee. I think I miss coffee the motherfucking most. There's a duck along the river here who has a bill with a little dark spot on it, like a mustache. Named him Axelrod. Quack fucking quack. Me, Hambone and Quaxelrod found a pretty sturdy sheet of ice and we're going to fucking float down the river for a while.
Quaxelrod just started quacking like crazy. It's foggy, but I can see someone else fucking floating toward us. It's Daley! Floating the other way. "You're a hard man to find, you know. Here's some bread for your duck. Shut him the fuck up."
"First off, you're back on. I mean, for now. Probably forever. The Supremes are assfucks, but they're my assfucks." Daley's hands are HUGE. "But really man, pull yourself the fuck together. You're running for mayor. Of Chicago. People are going to fuck with you all the time."
"You think when I wanted to close Miegs Field, and they told me no, that I went adrift? No. I fucking closed Miegs fucking Field. You think when they started pissing on the parking meter sale that I fucking tucked tail? No, I sold off everyfuckingthing else too. Here's something my Dad told me once: The role of the mayor is to be the guy that everyone takes a shit on. And then to shit on them back.
"Except he didn't say 'everyone,' he said 'Blacks, Jews, Poles, and Hippies' but those were different times. Fucking substance is the same. So you're going to turn this ice floe around, pack up your pets, and run for the goddamn mayor of Chicago and you're going to win. And once you've won, you're going to fuck with every last one of these motherfuckers until they wish they'd never even heard your name.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm floating my way down to Chinatown right now for some Dim Sum." And Daley's gone again, into the fog.
Fuck this noise. Quaxelrod? Hambone? We've got a motherfucking election to motherfucking win. Let's do this shit.
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