Seven Pilsners in, Lucifer burped, then pulled wadded up ballpoint pen scrawled loose-leaf out of his sweatpants pocket.
"You okay there, bud?" I asked, having pregamed on honey wine, and now at the Grey Ghost.
He cleared his chest. "I'M A MAN, DOING MAN THINGS. HEY HOT STUFF, CHECK OUT MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY."
"You're… writing an autobiography with Dollar Store pens on Dollar Store paper."
He smiled a shit eating grin, platinum hair curls matted in sweat that smelled like tobacco. He took out his marijuana vape and toked.
"Hell yeah. This is from Beelzebub's perspective, from when I started Hair Metal in the 80s."
I nearly dropped my drink: "YOUR idea was hair metal???"
"Yeah, dope right?"
I grabbed the loose leaf and began to read his elegant, wine stained blue ink scrawl.
"HIGHWAY TO HELL" the title began…
