I commence to you commander with a full face of breeze

that this war has unwittingly seized,

causing an allergy with your policies at sea.

Oh King George where have you gone?

Into the fields with your horse

or to battles beyond?

(more…)

As was the case as usual, I made an appearance at the alley house. Playing the guitar for a good roll, Dale had also decided to make an appearance. Wasted as usual, Dale walked in and was offered a beer by Jessie.

Jessie is the nephew of Dale, a 17-year old guitar (gee-tar) guru and one fuck of a kid to hang with. So it’s only obvious as to the offering of beer to Dale on Jessie’s part.

Around 50 years-old, Dale is a bit if a drinker I must say, perhaps closer to a guzzler more so than a drinker. Dale is the father of a kid that my brother and I grew up with while I was an early teen. His round small spectacles rested on his slender face atop his mass of a beard, giving him the persona of a biker-pirate. This particular night Dale was sporting a blue welding cap/hat that was branding the rebel flag. His swagger is one of similarity to that of Jack Sparrow. A country boy at heart, Dale is pure redneckness.

(more…)