Stop me if you’ve heard this one.
The sawed-off shotgun of literary pulp.
A dog finishes a Ray drink in ten minutes? Perhaps it was actually a greyhound.
There’s a joke in there somewhere. If I could only find my flashlight…
Nope, all I’ve got are some quarters for the Magic Fingers.
A dog finishes a Ray drink in ten minutes and then weaves to the bathroom so that he might wash the bad taste out of his mouth with toilet water.
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(c)Ray Harvey 2011