Several weeks ago, one of our local curmudgeons turned 80. He's always been lovely to me, but is.... a bit cranky, shall we say?
(some of his relatives sent him a bouquet of dead flowers on his b-day with a card that said "Happy Birthday, Dickhead.")
So today as a belated birthday present from a friend, I delivered a fifth of whiskey and a balloon bouquet to the aforementioned curmudgeon. He offered me a glass, but as it was 10AM and I was on the clock, I sadly declined.
I should have taken him up on it, because when I got back to the van, I noticed my leg was bleeding badly. His dog, while adorable, was quite jumpy and scratched the hell out of my leg. Hurts like a sumbitch. Could use some whiskey....
*headdesk*
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