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John Constantine
There is a lot of something that looks very much like dried blood on the outside of my right boot.

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Maybe you got blind drunk and curb-stomped some motherfucker. I'd like to think so. It's the romantic in me.

God, I hope not. I'll let you know if I find a pair of bloody pants lying around.

Did you kick something? A puppy, perhaps?

Not that I recall. I try not to make a habit of kicking any of our furry friends, but especially not puppies.

As a friend, and as one who is furry, I appreciate that.

If you'd stop getting into bar fights and then developing amnesia immediately afterwards, that wouldn't be a problem. Duh.

RH Mel,

Is Birmingham everything you remember?

Besides, that's more Shane's bailiwick. As I recall.

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