Tuesday, February 18, 2014

5078. BILL BAILEY

BILL BAILEY
Not to be confused with Beetle Bailey, or Ned Beatty
or Halle Berry or Hurley Burley; just so we have that straight.
Bill Bailey is due home  -  she's cried the whole night through.
It's a funny, lame, old world where I get my coffee and where I
live my life and where I hang my hat and my coat. I went to Iselin, 
just the other day  -  a town hereabouts, often referred to now as
'Little India'  -  to buy some clothing; asking 'where's a good store?'
The strange guy answered with a mouthful of Paan  - which is
betel leaf (more overlap, Beetle Bailey)  -  'go to the store called
'Ma Hat, Ma Coat', owned by my uncle Bhat. I think he was kidding;
it sounded like 'my hat, my coat' to me. But, anyway, that's the
life I lead. Now they're putting storage bins where I need them 
the least, and I'm watching as all these people are 
dropping off clothes.
Bill Bailey, won't you please come home?

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