Leather Has Gibbon Fever. Interlude.

Leather Tuscadero said to me, “I wish you wouldn't tell everybody our secrets.”

This is what I do, living my life out in public. I have no secrets. It is terrible to have a secret.

“It must be terrible to have a secret,” I told Leather Tuscadero. “That I why I do not keep them. Instead, I give them away for free, like wishes.”

“You’re in a mood, Mr. King,” Leather said. She was drinking shots of pickle-flavored vodka. We were in one of those bars she likes, the kind where you never know if it is day or night.

Every day can be like Carnival.