i need A FIREARM!
I WAS just trying to cross a park apparently populated by street toughs and crystal meth tweakers all rolled up in sleeping bags when one of them stopped me with my cheap Nova salmon and bottle of chardonnay (barefoot: 4.99) and asked me what i had in the bag. i kept on but replied 'groceries' (thinking this would not appeal to someone smoking cold pills and comet, but then the real questioning began as i continued to traverse the unlit park between the store and the place where the well-to-do tweakers slumber (or try to). i made it over the park fence (it was 97 degrees at midnight), and with the last bit of energy arrived at my apt. with only five hours to spare before the jewish deli opens up, when i may open up the package, and apply it to their bagel and have what Hemingway called a 'moveable feast'. — feeling excited.