There he knew he could escape the bore of a phony education and get to his mentor to train in magic.As Vladimir Strelok watched the cute boy who had s...ept all through class hurriedly leave, he wondered where it was he was off to. He shrugged off the idea and began neatly putting his things away. He was always slower than the rest, preferring to finish his notes with poignant thoughts and provoking questions to ask the next class. He thanked the professor for his lesson and left, headed for his. Its what we call, in America, a hangover.Wrenching my eyes open, I looked around the room. It was a small dingy hotel room in a rundown hotel in Philly. My eyes heart. My head hurt. My body hurt. I grabbed the bottle of Plymouth Gin, and found, to my horror, that it was empty. I scavenged through the bottles on the floor. They were empty, too.You'd think that out of the three bottles I brought home last night, at least one of them would have enough left to give me the strength to go and buy. More

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