As one of the newbies at the FIRM, I was keen to attend every social gathering going; even Friday night drinks with the old-timers.
One guy in particular, Big Fat Pauly, who was considered some sort of folk legend, couldn’t resist telling me about the shit he used to pull when he was my age. And as I stood there pretending to lap it all up, I remember thinking, Whatever old man, your tales wouldn’t even make the appendix if I ever chose to write a book.
It was getting close to midnight and I was getting impatient. So I chugged my beer, made my excuses and headed for the exit. But before the door closed, I could just make out the words, « same time next week then? »
Someone kill me now if all my Friday nights are going to be like this.
I’d have preferred not to catch…
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