He has the best adventures, and regales us with them. Well.
He shouldn't have days off.
For example, the Stampede, $18.00 for a pack of mini-donuts (he counted 22) and $12.00 for a Budweiser beer.
I live vicariously through him, and am grateful for the savings.
Then there was the fight with his girlfriend, she ended by breaking a coffee table over his head, giant scars and lacerations all down his neck and back, the customers all commiserated, not understanding that in all likelihood it was the just desserts of his endless prevarications.
He's got scars now, permanent, they're long shiny pale ribbons that upon his tanned neck.
And, in another fight with her he's called the police, they know him now, know his name and his number, tell him they'll be a while, it's Stampede and they're busy, and so he sits upon a curb and waits their arrival.
While waiting he wants a cigarette, a couple of homosexuals nearby are waiting for a bus and smoking....
"Give me cigarette" he says, and the one looks him up and down before offering one in exchange for a kiss.
He's not in the mood, tells them to fuck off, go to hell, it ends with one of them looking on while the other lifts him by his hair for the kiss....
The police have a laugh at his misfortunes, they're sympathetic, he has that charm...
These stories, they're gold, he regales us with them over dinner, his uncle the boss merely looking on in horror, he doesn't know what to say.