
An American Werewolf in Sydney: Vic wakes from a night on the piss and attempts to make amends while figuring out what the hell happened.

It was a place of forgotten love. Where poets are quoted whose names are now lost. No one went there to win anything. Only to arrange a more perfect defeat. We always drank the big pitchers made from hard plastic. We spent Popeye’s 24th birthday there, and one night, after we accidentally started a melee…