Wednesday, September 5, 2012


I had an uncle once - more like a stranger who ate all the deviled eggs at our get togethers.
He eventually got both legs amputated and died alone in his brick house.
But before that, he drank rubbing alcohol in the quiets of the night; only when times were hard.
His wife, Sandy, tried to withstand the coat hangers and the name-calling, but couldn't.
She left him for a man from Florida in a white car.
I mean, those were just the rumors...

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