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Frank Cotolo
October 10, 2019 |
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Here is another glimpse into my other life, that of an FBI agent who risked his life many times
out in the field.
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I sat quietly on a wooden seat at a table in Little Jimmy's Granulated Coffee Shop on East West
Street, which crossed North South Street, downtown near Bum's Row, directly aside from Whore's
Corner, to the left of The Poorhouse.
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A woman approached me and said, "Are you the one with the nickname like a strange geographical
anomaly usually found in a jungle?"
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"Who's asking?" I said.
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"I'm Cherie the Berry, from the Whore's Corner."
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"Then yes, my name is Quicksand."
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From that moment on a remarkable relationship developed. It was one that brought Cherie The Berry
so close to me that we intimately shared our Cream Of Wheat for breakfast from the same bowl every
morning. She let me have the back room of the Whore's Corner so I could conduct my business as
Quicksand and often she said I reminded her of an evening she spent in a famous pie factory.
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