Florida Postcard
The problem with writing a Florida postcard is, I keep being drunk!
Fuck.
Plus, what am I gonna write? Palm trees? Bottomless cooler of beer? Warm green sea? Free place to stay? It’s all true. Plus we have our own golf cart for driving to and from the beach.
Best “That’s what she said” so far: other day Firecracker and I were doing a little surfing–with our bodies–and a wave was coming and F.C. goes, “Let’s TAKE this one!” and I go, “Naah, too small,” and she takes it anyway and gets a pretty good ride (heh), and she jumps back into the water and says, “See? I even appreciate the small ones.”
Aww.
Anyways, this is the life, ‘cept: I miss me some Left Hook!
XXOO.
Pistol
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