I tipped the cheap whiskey back and felt it burn through the mucus lining of my throat on the way down. At least I should have except I don't have a mucus lining. Hell I don't even have a real body anymore. This stuff can't get me drunk, I don't need any kind of physical sustenance. But it's part of the image, like the cigarettes, the fedora and my trenchcoat. Even if I'm almost the only one left who remembers that. I can't believe how few people these days have heard of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe.
--Magnesite, from "The Babe Wore Blue" by Mark Latus.