I am told that this is a true story.
That once I went with my grandfather, Daddy Maury, to the 905 Liquor Store on Manchester Road in Rock Hill.
He placed a case of Budweiser at the checkout, along with a bottle of Beefeater's for Justine. I placed a box of Cracker Jacks alongside the order. I was told to put it back. I was denied the "A Prize in Every Box". I was enraged.
Evidently on the way home I started a mantra that went like this...
BEER FOR YOU!
BOOZE FOR JUSTINE!
AND I CAN'T EVEN HAVE A BOX OF CRACKER JACKS!!!!
WHEN YOU DIE I AM GOING TO BURY YOUR BODY IN THE FRONT YARD AND STOMP ALL OVER YOUR GRAVE EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE!
And I wonder where my son gets it from...
autism speaks – and listens
8 hours ago
4 you say:
ha! nothin like a little hyperbole to get a point across.
wehn we finally meet someday, you know what i'm bringing.
I had to read this story three times to figure out that not everyone does things like this.
'Cause I sure do.
That's why I like you.
Did you get to bury him in the front yard, then?
No, he donated his body to the University of St. Louis Medical Department. He had the last laugh!
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