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December 19, 2002
Behind a trash bin, Ralph found a homeless mutt. At least that’s how he would tell it. It was the mutt that found Ralph who’d fallen asleep in a drunken stupor. It was official: Sergeant Ralph had gone AWOL in the middle of this fucking desert, in some cock-fucking town where nobody spoke English. They would say that he’d gone totally insane, Ralph thought, like in Apocalypse Now. Perhaps he has, perhaps he has. His homeless companion yapped in concurrence. Neither spoke a language anyone in this town could understand, and they’d both become homeless. How beautifully insane, Ralph thought.