Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
It was raining. One of those torrential nights that made you wonder what they meant by hellfire. That bastard Pantsy hauled me into his office, told his gerbils to leave us alone and proceeded to remind me about the core business of Pirates of the Bargain Bin.
"What bin, Genusfrog?"
"In English, amphibian."
"Bargain, sir. Bargain bin."
"Good. About time you found yourself one."
And then, thunder. Hollow, soulless thunder, lean as the days. Trudging down to Chinatown, I thought, maybe this was it. The end of my line. Cold rain and doubt. And that was when I saw her.
Watching me from the glass panel of Ah Fook Restaurant, she glowed invitingly. No, I couldn't. Just resist you dumb lug. You'll never afford her. She'll have you weak. She'll hold you ransom, buddy. You'll never afford her.
But resist her I couldn't.
"How much for the pork belly? I want all of it."
"Ten dollar. Very cheap."
That was it. My reprieve. It poured buckets but I made it back before midnight. Back before he left. That bastard gerbil lover.
He refused to smile but the belly was glowing. Shone like an angel. My angel.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Devil's Waitin' (from Howl)