I was always under the impression that Dogboy could barely read, and that the closest he came to the book world was the display of porn behind the gas station where he buys his smokes and ammo. Then yesterday he calls up and says he was at the year's biggest literary bash - Prince's party out at BEA in LA Friday night... and Saturday, and Sunday . . .
Me: Why were you at Prince's?
Dogboy: He parties, bro. He was rockin'.
Me: Yeah, but how'd you get an invite?
Dogboy: P Diddy invited me.
Me: The rapper?
Dogboy: He's a lot more than a rapper, dude. Now he's a literary impresario.
Me: You're white trailer trash. Why was he hangin' with you?
Dogboy: Because he knows cool. And hey, Guru was looking for you.
Me: Guru? My editor? He was there?
Dogboy: No shit. He was like, where is DeFelice? Why the hell isn't he here? But I covered for you.
Dogboy: I told him you were too stuck up to be at a party like this. I mean, Vana White's old house? Come on.
Dogboy: From now on I'll just say you're in jail. Better?