To Our Friends

What was that sound? All kinds of noises coming from outside. A buzz saw, wrecking ball, trucks going beep beep beep, dogs barking at cars as they fly by down Broadway, cops cruising, ambulances telling everyone to get out of the way, the day has yet to begin. And here I sit telling you about it.

Last night was an all new low. Drunkeness, tomfoolery, a thousand laughs with waitresses and bartenders, local characters with red noses, fat men salting beers, old ladies drinking Manhattans, on the rocks with a cherry on top, a one legged dog running around the place.

We drank to the upcoming autumn; Indian summer. Clanked our glasses in a toast to colorful leaves falling from trees and candy corn. To temperatures turning cool then cold. Breath seen from our mouths as we sit around the fire. Drinks were raised to the Bears and football, which not always do the two go together. We drank and drank and drank. The abyss was well on it’s way. Somebody punched a wall.

And finally we drank to Linda, George’s dear friend. May she go on in peace, he said. And her glass always be full. Amen.

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