The Review of Contemporary Fiction, June 22nd, 2003
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him again that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
I said to him: "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today. But I have received another pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."
"How?" said he. "Amontill...
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