Well... Well, well. Moment...breaking into the freezer. It's no Kentucky Jack, but who has time for Jack these days. Probably not even Jack. If only the freezer wern't so far away. Fuggin freeznin snit n snit, freezner, my snass! Out of beer. Out, just plain out. The beer is gone. There will be more, there is already someplace else. Here, where we are waiting with less, what's the word, hope, there is no more beer. It can be surmised that our "hope" is not coming from the beer. A bit from Nina Simone (yeah, if she sounds hopeful...). But just a bit. So the hope must come from somewhere else. Let's hope we can find it in the freezer. Pure, cold hope. Dang, hope it's there. Marianna cleaned out the fridge, I hope she didn't toss it out, or mop it up in the thaw. IF we were to be hopeless...not possible, no, it's just not possible. I should just try to sleep. Yeah, sleep is cool..
...fuego