كيفاش كنقل "Runyonesque"?

In the past week, through no particular fault of my own, I have met a hustler called Muhammad Couscous, been asked if I wouldn't mind buying some hashish to help pay for a leg operation, and encountered a former marriage-license salesman named Steve who advised me to go to Moscow for the babes. This last delivered an astonishing ten-minute monologue which may have been about medieval Russian art, his work in the pornography industry, or UFOs—I remain uncertain, despite having given it much thought.

I guess I have no excuse not to write a book.