Sir

They call him crazy. I prefer Sir. If you look at him wrong his blood starts to stir. He doesn't like chocolate, children or pets. I don't think he likes anyone he's ever met. He yells at the postman, insults crosswalk guards. Why he's so darn mean he even hollars at cars. They say he eats wood in the morning and buckshot for lunch, but I know for a fact he likes a little less crunch. If I were a gambler with a few extra bills I would bet my last dollar that he's just lonely as hell. No woman in years has graced the sheets of his bed. Most sadly admit they would rather be dead. An old empty house where there is no love with it's paint worn and weathered with help from above. His car is antique in every sence of the word. Adequately refered to as "That Old Rolling Turd" Yeah that crazy ole bastard, at least a brick shy with no problem at all spitting in the Popes eye, but you have to love him or at least not make him mad. Cause' that crazy old man is my doggone Dad. The Applethoughtrotten