I could stand outside the candy store all day and never get a sweet taste
You could stroll past ignoring me or hand me a stick of gum
I could tell the story of the gum man
Or how the hawk pecked out my eyes and flew away with a shiny wrapper
When everyone had assembled, Bruce led us into his bedroom. His parents weren’t home, “Take a look at this,” he said, spinning an army-issue .45-caliber pistol on his finger in the manner of an old west gunfighter. “My ‘ol man gave it to me. This thing is so powerful,” he went on; “My dad says if you shoot a man in the thumb, it will knock him to the ground.”Read More
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