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I tried some more. It was tasting better. I was feeling better. “This stuff belongs to your father, Baldy. I shouldn’t drink it all.”
“He doesn’t care. He’s stopped drinking.” Never had I felt so good. It was better than masturbating. I went from barrel to barrel. It was magic. Why hadn’t someone told me? With this, life was great, a man was perfect, nothing could touch him. I stood up straight and looked at Baldy. “Where’s your mother? I’m going to fuck your mother!”― Charles Bukowski Tweet
Ham on Rye
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