Nothing shines in jail, and this is a certainty.
“If only Eve hadn’t taken a liking, and a licking, to Slade,” Alex reflected, thinking about his days,back when.
Since leaving the Garden, Alex had known troubles, and travaille.
Alex’d been in jail, beyond the pale lurching pale, barely surviving the pale hours…
The sun didn’t shine in jail. You don’t tan in jail. You get pale, jail pale, in jail. It is true jail is shitty. Shit is tan, but if you do enough jail, shit is stale.
“Stick it where the ssssun don’t ssshine,” Slade said to Alex, so Alex stuck himself in jail.
… Alex had gratefully eaten jailhouse baloney, (amorously?)
The jailer’s wife, no Eve she, served the baloney she’d fried herself on a hot plate.
No one in New Orleans ate this poorly but prisoners.
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