Hobo's advent calendar 2008
December 17
I could hear the sound of faint music coming from the grave of Hjalmar Holst-Humperdinck, the wholesaler. A whiny, somewhat dampened sound of a saxophone pushed its way between all the mumbling widows sat on their knees, planting things on the graves of their wilted husbands.
"The Scoundrel Days of Hobo Highbrow" (p.68)
