ROVER
The guy on Thirteenth Street was drunk,
and I knew that, so I figured why take
any chances. Those sorts of people really
annoy me. They get all in your face, and
slobber about the inconsequentials you,
of course, can do nothing about. His wife
has left him stranded, and taken the keys.
Well, how's that again, birdbrain, and
what did you expect? Then they never
leave and start crying all over for you to
buy them one because you're a good guy
and they like you. Right, pal, and here's
a bowl of cornflakes too. He's talking to
me and trying to eat peanuts as well,
from the little bowl along the counter :
fingers peeled, trying to grasp, he can't
even find his mouth. I think if he fell off
his bar stool right now I'd stomp him.
Down for the count, in a land of no
numbers. Now wouldn't that be great?
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