I noticed something amiss with George's car when I pulled up to Fat Albert's this morning. A headlight was out and the quarter panel was badly dented.
"I hit a deer," George said, startling me, as he came outside to smoke a cigar.
"And pigs fly," I thought to myself. I couldn't see any blood or animal hair.
"What are you addicted to these days?" George then asked me to change the subject.
Misery loves company.
"I was addicted to Benadryl for awhile," I told him.
"Does it get you high?"
"Just makes you sleepy and dull," I replied.
"I'll stick with my bourbon and beer."
I drank several refills of coffee until I was growing to feel guilty for not paying. I told George good bye and drove home wondering whose mailbox he hit last night while drinking and driving.