Bone Bone Bone Bone.. Bone.. Bone.. Bone.. Bone.. Bone
If fate is in fact determined by some higher being, my purgatory would go down a little something like this:
Midtown Manhattan, probably in JC Penney’s with half a roll of Charmin on my shoe and Nickelback blaring on the loudspeakers. In walks my 4th grade math teacher, Mr. Vogue, wearing his muscle man charm necklace over his burgeoning pecs tucked in a pastel sweater vest. Surprise! Rapid fire fraction drills!
This waiting room certainly won’t provide enough decisive ammo for the big dogs, let alone “achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven,” but it surely is the perfect place to test my patience.
Layzie and Krayzie, I sure do I hope I see you there at the crossroads, crossroads, crossroads. So I won’t be stuck with Kroeger.
