Drinking prune juice
Gentleman, do you remember when we used to crawl through the dirt to pick up the metal shavings from the horseshoes on Bell Road? We'd collect them in a jam jar and melt them down to a quarter-cent, just for the joy of tossing a coin to those Spring Garden scalliwags. The warmth from their grateful smiles would heat our wood stoves for a month. Those days we did not have a "DQ," only delicious elderberry jam.
Gentleman, is that you? I'm not dead like you thought, I was buried with my crutches all this time under a frozen pile of icy pulp, at the bus stop by the long sandwich shop on Spring Garden!! The pape-y Coast hole kept me warm & alive--that and the sound of your flemmy screams. Oh, and I licked the ink. Red is best. Goodness gracious, that bird-loving, carzy rag is a miracle! A miracle!
Gentleman, is that you? It's me, lanky. For your pensioner's cheque, I'll show you what's under my support hose.
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