Keep an ice cold beer, like I’m the liquor store mascot.

By: machiasschoen

Mar 06 2011

Category: Uncategorized

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Don't pet the iguana

A baguette, some hard salami, and a gentle brown mustard lay in the truck.  Lunch was nearing, and as the hurricane swell continued to send glass toobs through the lineup at 67th street, a surfed out, sunned out crew of shralpmongers descended on Rockaway liquors with a unbearable, awful, aching thirst.  With the iguana silently judging our excited purchases, we loaded the car with beers, small beers, tall beers, lite beers, dark beers, and careened back to the beach.  Still our kite flew, still the waves peeled in, and people slid down their faces, arms extended, legs bent, faces contorted into friendly grins.  Salty sand substituted for limes, and sandwiches in hand, a silence fell.  10 people united by simple sandwiches and drinks shared a quiet, unanimous moment of thanks.  Like the iguana, we were pleased with our positions in life.  ALSHERBILLYPATJANETSASAJAMIEMYLESSIMONE were the players, and we played the game of our life that day.  I salute you summer.

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