I did not expect this to get instant feedback, but it did.

Once again, if you can listen, do that:

I don't even want to take the time to completely rehash this story, so I'll tell it fresh in case you can't listen to the audio file.

I was driving home past the Mega-Liquor Store yesterday and say a young boy skipping out in front of what appeared to be his day. It reminded me of going to the liquor store with my dad because it was always fun before he started drinking. Going into a liquor store when I was a kid was magical because all the bottles had magic potions in them, plus there were all kinds of novelty decanters like Elvis, dogs, and cars.

My dad also worked for a number of years at a liquor distributorship because he was a big fan of liquor (at least that's what they said at his funeral). He had a big, bad-ass homemade bar with at least sixty bottles on it. He had every flavor of liqueurs, from boysenberry to strawberry to peace and more. If you wanted a whisky, hey had more than a dozen to choose from.

As a kid, I only stole liquor from his bar once. I stole a bottle of Ancient Age. Me and the kids down the street got so drunk that we threw up down the ladder of the attic we had climbed up to party in. The reason I only stole liquor from my dad once was because when I went back a second time, I found his weed. It was easier to steal, transport, and share with my friends.

(Ed Note:  My dad from causes that I believe were related to his high alcohol intake. He should have stuck with the weed too.)