Reminds me of a libation I once had at a small establishment in the northern outskirts of South Toadsuck, Arkansas. There was a girl there named Daisy. A sweeter rose there never was than Daisy. She was missing her top front teeth. She could whistle like a tea kettle. I was engaging her in a serious conversation concerning the length of a Zulu’s asagai, when her beau, Beau, strode to the bar. He was six feet eight if he was an inch. He challenged me for Daisy’s hand. I told him I didn’t fight for appendages. He pulled a forty five on me. I pulled two 22s, but he had me by one. He shot me in the bar. The Doctor said he never saw a bar in anatomy class. Needless to say, I made a full recovery. I often ponder whatever happened to sweet Daisy. I heard she married Beau and became a possum trainer. But that’s another story.
Stay away from the Absinthe.
so why didn't you give us one of those.