When It Gets Older

Lars was my first chargehand when I began working on the booming grounds below my first sawmill. Lars, like most of the old boommen, had logged for quite a while before his wife convinced him to get a town job. "Fucking bitch just had to be close to a god damn mall."

I was leaning on my pike pole one evening wondering what the fuck I was doing working on the dirty, disgusting river when Lars hobbled over in his caulks, turned and pissed in the river, turned to me, lit up a smoke, leaned on his pike pole and asked, "You ever eat pussy Beer?"

He guessed I had not. None of my girlfriends had wanted that yet. All they wanted was my bent cock.

"Let me tell you something: it doesn't taste any better when it gets older." He spat in the river, took a deep haul on his Export A and headed back upriver.