Anywayhows, the Portuguese spaghetti was good as girlfarts, and then they hip-hopped it to showers after supper. Steel kept it cool and calm, though his blood crawled up in his eyes and he wanna run back to his bunk to drink, glug-a-glug-a-goo, damn he wished he put a flask in his locker, if he was rich, he’d put flasks everywhere just in case he got thirsty. He hid that notion under his domey-doodle though. He wanna be less smacky for liquor than Lem. It ain’t a real addiction-craving if some other nigga is craving it more. That’s what Steel thought as he showered. Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink.
From Steel the Roughneck