|Published October 05, 2006.|
|My achy breaky heart....|
|Well, I just have to say it, I have been biting my tongue for so long and I know that there will be a million people bitching back at me but here is goes...|
I am starting to really get sick and tired of the Pirate that hangs out in front of Clyde St. Liquor store. I have seen him in front of that store for at least 8 years. Every time I see him and have a pocket-full of change, he gets it. If I have a smoke he gets it. I even gave him a pile of foreign money that I got from traveling. (did you know that he collects foreign money?) Anyway, I feel like after all these years and all these high-fives he should know me by now AND know that the odd time that I pay with plastic and don't have a pocket filled with twonies, I am not being an asswhole and shouldn't be given that "break my heart" treatment. 'Cause shure enough I will be back in a few days for some cold brew with a pile of coin that has his name all over it. Mr. Pirate, you are the staple of Down town, I feel an emptiness when I don't see your silhouette against the nauseating light of the LC, but please, its not my fault when I don't have coin for you, blame the modern convenience of plastic. It breaks my heart just as much as it breaks yours when I leave you empty handed.