someone watching old news, strange memories surfacing, bubbling up from the haze of blacked out days and night in New Orleans three years ago: 

the date written in huge lopsided letters on a concrete wall:

I'm inside with an ugly woman and a big dog.
I've got a gun.

a few days later:
the dog is dead and the woman is gone.

I can't remember all the words right, or where it was, but I think he ate dog soup.