Tuesday, 9 June 2009

Top Shelf

I sat in the corner as they cupped the barmaid who filled a tankard with shots of green and blue, but mostly amber. Had to down it. Down in one. Down it, down it, down it.
When I came to, a man stood over me brandishing his Johnson, a smile as deep as a scuzz starlet's wounds. Our eyes met and it dawned on me that I, to that point, had never felt true love. And I never would.

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