Förmiddagen på Raymond Chandler-prosa

I awoke. Last night's whiskey was still in my mouth. I tried to wash it out with water. It didn't work. I had some eggs. I smoked some cigarettes. I thought about last night. We'd been to a club to see some band, 'Efterklang' or whatever. They weren't half bad. We had a Bloody Mary. We had a couple of tequilas. We had some whiskey. The keyboardist was a girl. Can said she was butt-ugly. I said nothing. He seemed displeased. He needed to tell someone else. He told the singer. The singer didn't like it. The girls we were with didn't like it. The guys at the door didn't like it. We left the club.