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Claude woke up up the next morning in a bed at the local cat house. His head hurt, his mouth was dry as a desert, and he had the shakes. He pulled the pisspot from under the bed and threw up.
Somehow he got dressed, but when he checked his pants for money, there wasn’t any. He pulled off a sock and removed the two twenties, wondering why no one ever thought to take his socks off. He walked to the café on the corner and had breakfast. By the third cup of coffee, he was feeling better.
