Thursday, July 15, 2004

Hey, Kids!

Man, what a night. I haven't imbibed that much alcohol since "I don't know when" and, even if I did, I wouldn't have remembered due to the quantity of booze in my system at the time. Messes with your memory, you see. Anyway, I envy those people who can avoid vice and sin and strong drink and men posing as women. But, like the good boy I am, I must soldier on...

Oh, you're wondering what I'm talking about? I went to a park downtown in our little burg yesterday.

This was my first excursion to the park in over two years, following the "poop cannon" incident. I told them I was feeling ill!

So anyway, there's a lot of stuff in this park...I mentioned before that there are both "bums" and "squirrels," I ate a squirrel, yadda yadda...There's also shuffleboard, some grass, benches, a fountain, trees, bums, squirrels, bugs...The fountain? Yeah, it's formed in the shape of an old man people call "uncle Lester." Every so often, when the fountain is full of booze, a steady stream of yellow liquid will issue forth. "Uncle Lester" doesn't mind so much if you frolic in the spray, just as long as you toss him a nickel or two.

Oh, that's NOT a fountain? Aww, man...All this time. And he runs like clockwork...*sigh*

But, nonetheless, I went to the park. It "rained" on me for a little while, thanks to Uncle Les, but the experience was otherwise enjoyable. I got to chase some squirrels around for a while and then played the game wherein you drop a rock on a sleeping bum and see if he can catch you as you run around the park, whooping and hollering. Man, that tires me out like "nobody's business."

So, while I was there, I saw a couple kids steal someone's dog. I wanted to say something, but my conscience got the best of me. I got to thinkin' "maybe these poor kids REALLY need that dog. After all, dogs are expensive and if their parents can't AFFORD a dog, stealin's the next best thing." I then snapped out of it and threw rocks at the kids' heads until they ran home crying. "Job well done, buddy," I told myself. I then tried to pat myself on the back, but screwed up my elbow in the process. Man, that hurt.

So, after too long, it was time to head back to my shanty (located conveniently in "Old Shanty Town") and rest my weary bones. Luckily, a beer truck had run off the road near there and, on my way home, I stumbled upon the scene. The rig was upside down and the driver was trapped in the cab. He kept shouting "help! help!" and so I did. I helped myself to some of the beer and got the hell out of there. I must've drank 3 or 4 cases that night. Ah, yes. THESE are the good ol' days, my friends...These are the good ol' days.

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