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It's well past 6 pm, I've got a bottle of cheap red, some nice food in the fridge, and the night is looking goody. My good friend MR. A. V. de Bronff Marzipan is gonna spin some of his minimal moody beats later tonight up West End way, and yours truly will be there, tipsy, tipping hat courteously to the young folk milling around, cane securely tucked under arm in case the arthritis becomes too much, a glass of scotch on the rocks with a beer chaser. And I will most definitely by grinning that silly vegetable grin of mine, teeth tinted a tired red.
No AC/DC tonight, I hesitate to venture. |
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