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.
Drinking prune juice