Life in the Grove

An old, shifty eyed bum hobbles down the sidewalk, pulling behind him a cart covered by a ratty blanket. Our eyes meet.

He speaks discreetly, "Hey man, you like booze?"

"I certainly do."

He reaches unsteadily towards the cart, in order to reveal the contents. As the blanket is removed, a bottle is pulled loose and clanks on the cement. An arsenal of alcohol containing no less than four cases, and two bottles of champagne is unveiled.

As a grin spreads across his face, he mutters "Make me a bargain I can't refuse."

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This was shortly after some toothless drunk lady complimented my eyebrows, and told me how she used to lick her man's eyebrows.

This is my life in shadesville.