Damen Liquors - by Craig Turnwall

I met this gentleman, with thick ribs and a belt he had handmade;
      -You dont have any Busch!
      There isnít any?
      -No goddamit' would I ask yous?!
      Thereís a ring of five here.
      -Is five six?
      Itís all we got ol timer, will it do?
      -I supposes it's got to.
      Three dollars, fifty cents.
      -Tell the boss youre outta Busch.
      Itíll be here tomorrow with the truck.
      -My ass!
      No need to get upset.
      -Then donít tell me bout your trucks and goddam cunt lies!
      Get outta here!
      -I woulda been outta here sooner if youre numbers werent all odd.
      Stupid old man.
      -Least I have grace and a pocket full of ice.
      What!?
      -You thought I just came in here?
      Iím calling the cops.
      -I am the police!
      Get the hell outta here or Iím calling 911.
      -Go ahead you snot-nosed hose, tell em Sting has arrived.

So I continued to stand next in line.

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