"I brought you a fuggin cookie," he mumbled as I waddled past him, my thigh glued to my knee. What a bastard. What a fart tard. What a blend we are. What a night. What a spark plug tangerine sunrise we hope to find presently. And lastly, god bless the punch bowl for never pulling any.
A. Aspirin
B. Ibuprofin
C. Hair of the dog
D. A swift head-butt to the heart-shaped-pillow of this moment.
Photo by Amanda & Randy. Words by Dustin.
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