cotten

Dog fighting is barbaric. Last night I took my nephew to a "tournament" and neither one of us enjoyed it. For one, there was no seating and my little nephew couldn't even see the "doggie woggies playing". I felt bad for him because he really loves dogs. And I felt bad for myself, since they had no concessions, and I couldn't get a decent cocktail for the life of me. At least at a Dodger game I can get a tub of domestic beer for 10 bucks. So I had to settle for a swig of cheap bourbon from the flask of the guy standing next to me. And let's just say his lips didn't seem healthy, though as it turned out, he was a wise man who suggested I put my nephew up on my shoulders, but that I shouldn't take him to the front row because of the blood. Good plan my friend, I told him. Up went my nephew. It wasn't long before he wanted back down again. I suppose cigarette smoke got in his eyes, because his eyes filled with tears. And with a tearful nephew and no mint julep, I headed for the door. And I won't go back again until they get some proper concessions, and a bathroom that is more than just the far corner of the warehouse.