You know what I’d really like?
Some time to work on some new stories. And poems. And maybe even some laundry. And that bottle of Knob Creek in my liquor cabinet that is laughing at me. K-Fed brought it when he rolled through in February.
I am in serous danger of loosing my ghetto pass. BGR threatened to come show me who’s man.
I don’t need this. Not on my watch. Fucking bottle must die.
I’ve my reputation to consider…by