On Christmas Eve, we watched a youngster plaster the pavement in multiples with beer/stomach juices as we were in queue to go through the police check point to walk back to the ship in Ocho Rios, Jamaica.
yeah but the tail gets bigger… go figure!
hopefully you found out before A thousand more stories kept the fires and flames alive
cause then you’d be stuck wondering “how the fuck do I dream at night?”
but then your tortured soul would remember it’s from the memories of a borrowed death, and a guilty past
know what I mean Vern?
Late,
grmpysmrf