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Needing Advice
(Son) Hey, Dad, have you got a minute? Actually
it's a little complicated. Could you meet me
at Cuss from Hoe over a beer or two?
(Dad) Now you have got me worried, big spender.
What's up?
(Son) I need some advice.
(Dad) O.K., see you in about twenty minutes.
(Dad) Well, son, I think I need something stronger
than two beers.
Are you sure he is dead?
(Son) Yeah, he is not breathing.
(Dad) And he is in your apartment?
(Son) Yeah, he came downstairs to watch the ball game. We
had a couple of beers and I fell asleep on the couch.
Next thing, I wake up and there he is lying on the floor
in a pool of blood.
(Dad) And he is still there?
(Son) Yeah, he is dead, Dad. He can't leave.
(Dad) Did he ever pay you back the money he owed you, that you owe me.
(Son) No, that's why I checked his wallet to see if that was his
intention, to pay me back.
(Dad) And what did you find?
(Son) His wallet was empty, nothing in it.
How do I explain that to the cops, Dad?
(Dad) Holy Moley, how do you get yourself into these messes?
We've got to throw his wallet in the river, get back to
your place, break a window, empty your wallet, and after
I have punched you out, I'll call the police.
(Son) Thanks, Dad, I knew you'd think of something,
except Gus at Cuss from Hoe heard us talking.
(Dad) Yeah, but he was the only one there and he owes me
$20 grand. He said he'll pay me tonight.
Want to take care of it?
(Son) Sure, Dad.
poem
by
Elke Nigro
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