Futile Escape Out Clutches of Penury Rattle Tin Can Twice

Yours truly dug deep with bony strength in tandem with fantasy notions know king around in figurative heady toboggan noggin like cranial carapace to muster every ounce of strength in an effort to escape chronic confrontation with endless streak of bleakness. Although cursed with brutish, nasty, and short nefarious fate as a measly looking human varmint, this grimy, grungy, mangy, rangy, et cetera looking besotted being clung with all the might within his five foot ten inch or so tall and one hundred and sixty five pound body to transcend sigh grimly twerking terrestrial travesty that tweeted n tweaked laugh-in fickle finger of fate in my favor. I tapped into atavistic survival skills summoned willpower to stay alive drinking butter bear while heavy cross of dirty poor poverty borne. No matter a hard-core skeptic at heart, this cynic plaintively called for divine intervention to help one nondescript human piece of flotsam and jetsam to cope - living like doleful junkyard dog. In essence, this abandoned, ignored and shunned vagrant frequently raged against the Deus ex machine found figurative amidst literal lovely bones slim pick hens with demons that tormented psyche. While traipsing along litter strewn condemned boulevard of broken dreams, torn and well-worn shoe kicked a couple of long discarded items. These weather beaten hands reflexively bent to retrieve accouterments. One comprised colorful jagged shard, in a previous lifetime housed cheap fermented liquor. Nothing but crud filled remnant of dog gone booze hounds’ favorite drink.