When I got home from work tonight I took the Hammer down to where she used eat homeless people's shit all the damn time. We had not been down there for some time because while I do not mind the dog eating shit, I do mind her rolling in it like the filthy rich roll in boredom. It does not smell good.
Sure enough the Hammer found a new place the homeless had been right away. I guess they were the constipated homeless because she could find any shit to eat or rub herself in.
In the camp were pillows, blankets and some half burnt plastic. Only a homeless person could find a way not to burn plastic when it has not rained for months. The other thing of note in the camp were several empty cans of Colt 45, the official beer of the homeless motherfuckers who cannot even figure out how to light plastic on fire. I am thinking the homeless shit in their empty beer cans to be neighbourly to dog walkers like me.
After the Hammer and I got back from the bush Sonja and I went out for dinner. After I had drank my pitchers of beer and filled out a form promising me a future free dinner the waitress asked me, "Is your name really Beer?"
Sonja said, "That's just his nickname."
I said, "My real name is Lucky...Lucky Logger."
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