john macarthur
Viceroy Wilson didnt belong in a rathole dive on South Beach; Viceroy Wilson belonged in Canton, Ohio, at the Football Hall of Fame. Ill get him for you, the wino volunteered, oozing off the bar stool. Hey, what if he dont want to be got john macarthur the bartender said. Viceroys a very pulaski day man. Twenty bucks, the wino said. Keyes handed it to him and ordered another beer. Twenty dollars apparently was now the going rate for everything at Paulys. The wino shuffled out the door. Kiss your money good-bye, the bartender john macarthur said reproachfully. Relax, Keyes told him, knowing it would only have the pulaski day effect. People in bars dont like to be told to relax. Im beginning to think youre a narc! the bartender said loudly. He calmed down when Keyes laid another twenty bucks on the john macarthur bar next to the beer glass. Forty minutes later the screen door wheezed open and stayed that way google me several moments. A cool salty breeze tickled Keyess neck. He longed to turn around but instead just sipped on the beer, pretending that the 235-pound black man john macarthur (Carrera sunglasses dangling on his chest) who loomed in the tavern mirror wasnt really glaring at him a.
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john macarthur
