Dudes for real used to call him "Old Blue Eyes," as he crooned a tune.

That night, there was only one old drunk in the smokey room, showing just pupil wide slits in his eyes, the color of bloody money. Old Blue Eyes gave away his soul every night, and got it back around four in the afternoon, when his head throbbed like the slow, heady beat of the bass on a still, sultry night in the city. No matter how empty the house, brothers could count on Old Blue to wring every drop out out of his pathetic, weeping heart.

He was REAL, man! He knew what he was talking about! For you see, Old Blue Eyes wasn't just working another joint on the strip. He was a cat who could dig it the most, yeah.

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