Just One More Hour, Please?
The title intrigued me, 'Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe", it sounded Southern. Not the South of verandas, mint juleps and Oak lined lanes, but the South, that is night, steeped in myth and mystery.
I was right. From The first paragraph where the reporter is told they cannot name their source. Not for fear of death, but for fear of having Mama wash One's mouth out with soap to the forbidding mysteries of those Blackbirds that were just starting to unravel when I was forced to stop reading.
Right now, it's a little past midnight here and I'd give my last drop of Sweet Tea for one more hour of Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe.
I was right. From The first paragraph where the reporter is told they cannot name their source. Not for fear of death, but for fear of having Mama wash One's mouth out with soap to the forbidding mysteries of those Blackbirds that were just starting to unravel when I was forced to stop reading.
Right now, it's a little past midnight here and I'd give my last drop of Sweet Tea for one more hour of Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe.