It was a clear white night, a clear black moon...
I may be Almost Human but I feel like a Baboon.
The cold beer streamed off the side of my leg as I cursed that blasted spillage. The lit spliff in my left and the barely legal gaggerette bobbing for apple made my free right hand of little use.
To be or not to be?
To huff or not to puff?
To blast or to make it last?
Those were the sorts of thoughts running through my head as that frigid coldness made me shiver. Not to be outdone, my company had to stop and give commentary.
Not something I'm fond of.
If only there was a way they could keep their tongues, but only use them for good...
In response, I offered: