Yeah, it happened.
I just had the priveledge to ring up the town slutbag in the pharmacy's drive-thru. She's been holding up the line for a matter of terribly long minutes, when, with a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she somehow manages to tear off a piece of her perscription bag and write seven digits on it. She hands to me, says "Gib dis to yer Daddy", winks, and drives away. Now, when the town slutbag tries to give your father her digits, what do you think she wants? Counseling? I think not.
Needless to say, the slutbag's number is in the paper shredder.
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1 comment:
Well...I wonder if your Grandfather knows her personally?
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