We can't bust heads like we used to. But we have our ways. One trick is to tell stories that don't go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Gimme five bees for a quarter," you'd say. Now where were we... oh yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones.
abraburger on August 12nd, 2018 at 23:53 UTC »
The whole gang is here, from bottom left:
Randy “I’d rather be golfing” Jorgensen
Retired Police Lieutenant Nick “Sarge” Caputo
Ester, The old kindergarten teacher who now paints vaginas at the rec center
John, their dealer
Conspiracy theorist “Kit” Zuckerman, P.I.
Former engineer/amateur photographer Mort Mortensen.
mele12 on August 13rd, 2018 at 00:05 UTC »
Where was this? Fantastic idea, I’d love to know if a lot of people stopped for advice
MiamiFootball on August 13rd, 2018 at 00:58 UTC »
We can't bust heads like we used to. But we have our ways. One trick is to tell stories that don't go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Gimme five bees for a quarter," you'd say. Now where were we... oh yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones.