I should not have stolen the lever-action Winchester hidden under the pair of shorts on the bar stool while I was looking for my trench coat. I was pleased when the girl driving my getaway car flashed a CIA driver's license at the cop who chased us down. I was sad when I lost the rifle at a house party I threw for people I haven't seen since grade school, especially since it had an interesting action built around a double-barrel S/W Model 25.
Your lesson here is that even a half-rack of the ribs at McKeen's Pub is too much if you intend to retire early.
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