{Bob goes in and out of his local bar every other day, but he never goes under. Unless of course, it’s blue (Or pink) cause he’s weird like that, sorta like my friend with three testicles. But then again, having three testicles isn’t that weird for a guy with three eyes and six feet.
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{Bob thought he had a regular bar-tab, but it’d actually been paid off by his wife. (For services rendered to the milk-man.) The milk-man had been her highschool sweetheart, and was now father to 19.486 chickens, superhero by night and muffin-man from mid-morning to late
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{evening. The milk-man’s chickens wandered the streets avoiding foxes, who hunted those poor defenseless hens. (Which ate roast chicken brains.) One day, a little boy got lost and saw the milk-man chasing a big naked swedish transvestite; who loved the smell of weed in the morning.
EDIT (Not that the little boy recognised the smell of weed, the trans-nature of the big naked man or the fact that it was morning.)
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