The naked ladies downstairs.
Here is the wall of shame I walk by going to my bedroom above Ronnie’s studio.
There will be U of G students firing the Ratagama at night. I hope I can get some sleep with all the naked women and creatures partying below me in the studio. Last time I was there Ronnie had some figures of naked women with bottles of bourbon littering their feet and their arms wrapped around the devil. Maybe if I play Charlie Daniels Band “The Devil went down to Georgia” they’ll think that he is I and venture upstairs. I'll be sleeping in my new white lab jacket that my health professional Doc Agel precribed as a fashion statement that women can't resist. Naw, I’m no angel. Ronnie told me on the phone tonight he is waiting for his guardian angel.