So, Junior got his smaller casts, and he is no longer recuperating at Chez Parker. For the good of both Junior and the community, I have hidden his bottle of Vicodin. However, that ain't going to stop Junior. Nosiree. He hobbled on home, grabbed some cash, and began his long, painful journey to the Holler News and Booze. He was intent on getting some kind of inebriant in him no matter what.
Junior, not being as smart as your average Yorkshire terrier, decided to buy himself a case of beer. One of the stock boys helped him get it outside, but then he had to sit and ponder how he was going to get it home what with him having two broken legs, a pair of crutches, and a dislocated shoulder.
About this time, Dickie Jensen had wandered by. He stopped and silently looked Junior up and down. Then, while staring at the case of beer, he came to realize Junior's predicament. Now, a true friend would have helped poor, old Junior take his beer home. Unfortunately for Junior, Dickie ain't such a friend to Junior or anybody else. So, as you might have already predicted, Dickie grabbed a handful of beers for himself and continued on down the road. While Junior got mighty irate and cussed Dickie out good, he was powerless to prevent the theft.
Finally, Junior came upon the idea of putting the beer into a shopping cart which he then could push home by bumping it with his chest as he hobbled along. Tired, sore, and with a newly bruised sternum, Junior arrived home inspired to begin a round of therapy. I can hear him next door right now, singing along with "Cisco Kid" by War. The medication must be taking effect.
"Eat the salted peanuts out of can,"
Stevie Joe Parker
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