Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Finally the guy with the eyepatch arrives.
He was dripping wet with gin-fizz.
He was half dead and dynamite, with needle-marked arms
like the frontman in some grunge band, a big straw hat and a liquid orange suntan.
He cooled himself off with a japanese hand fan, motioned for silence, and then he began.
He said,
"You know this clown they call the nightclub dwight?
he's got a place called the Nice-Nice that he won rolling dice-dice.
Dwight likes the lights, he likes roaming the foam.
Now Dwight's never home now that Dwight's got a jones.
Dwight was pretty nice when he took out that loan from us,
Now Dwight don't got the courtesy to pick up the phone for us.."
He made a joke, he leaned in close, and then he spoke.
He Said,
"I want nightclub Dwight dead in his grave.  I want the Nice-Nice up in blazes."

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