Sunday, September 24, 2017

9974. ROVER

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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