NO RESPECT
gary jurechka
Late one night
some nameless bar, some other town,
tired, playing a pinball machine
by the door and slamming a beer,
not socially, why drink unless to get drunk?
Anyway, in the dim lit entryway
a gorgeous blonde went up to a
familiar looking man who just walked in
and I heard her say to him,
“Is that a gun in your pocket or
are you just happy to see me?”
Then realizing she was talking to
John Wayne Bobbitt, she quickly added,
“Oh, it must be a gun,”
then walked on past him out the door.
