I'm goinna start over, because I know you weren't listening. So there we were. Where were we? Well, we were in Poughkeepsie, where we all lived. Most of us lived there that is: Terry, Jerry, Cooper, Knox, Esther the Harlot, and of course Fibler. Fibler's the one who used to fix things. Poughkeepsie wasn't like it is today. We only had one gas station for the entire village, and before that, we didn't have any! The whole dang place ran on onion oil, which was about as abundant as the cats in Knoxie's backyard cat farm. Those cats sure did whine a lot. I was of the school of thought that cats weren't meant to live in pens, or even wear socks, but that Knoxie made sure each one of those little pesks had two fresh pairs every sixth moon, which was a lot in those days. Me and Esther used to trade socks periodically to keep from getting the footrot. Show me a cat outta Knoxie's cat farm that suffered from footrot I used to say and I'll show you a free meal! Those were the kinds of jokes we used to tell back then. Of course when Fibler got pinched he blamed it on me, citing all the jokes about eating the cats. I came at him with my switch and they pinned me down for damn near two hours till my mouth stopped its foamin'. Does that answer your question dear?
That all you got, Missy?
So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time and went to the store to buy some bread. At the time, that only cost a nickel and nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. 'Gimme five bees for a quarter,' you'd say. Anyway...
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