witty doesn't even begin to do this guy justice. The Great Slob (from "Septuagenarian Stew" 1994) I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes) shoes off beer bottle in hand trying to shake off a difficult night, say with a woman still around walking the floor complaining about this and that, and I'd work up a belch and say, "HEY, YOU DON'T LIKE IT? THEN GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!" I really loved myself, I really loved my slob- self, and they seemed to also: always leaving but almost always coming back. Not to be confused with the wittiness of Burroughs, who shot his 2nd wife in the head doing the William tell apple on the head scene.



"man's best friend"



I told the guy -he was watering his lawn-

you ever squirt my dog

again and you'll have to deal with me.

he just kept on watering, looking straight ahead,

and he said, I ain't worried, you punks talk about

doing it but you never do it.



he was an old white-haired guy, kind of dumb. I could

feel the dullness radiating off him.

I yanked the hose from his hand, turned him around and

sank a hard right to his gut.

he dropped like a stone and just lay on his

back on the lawn

holding his stomach and breathing

hard.

he looked pitiful.

I picked up the hose and watered him down good,

soaked his clothes, then gave him a good dose

in the face and walked off.



I went down to the store and got a fifth of scotch and a six-pack.



when I came back he was gone.

I went up to my apartment and told Marie that I

had taken care of the matter with the guy who

squirted our dog.

she asked me, what did you do, kill him?

and I told her, no, I just explained things to him.

and she wanted to know, what did I mean, I

explained things to him?



and I told her, never mind, where are some clean

glasses?



and then the dog came walking in.

Koko.



you gotta know I liked him

plenty.



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