This old, toothless, decrepit, termite drags himself into the bar. He looks up and down the bar and slowly says, “Is the bartender here?”
This old, toothless, decrepit, termite drags himself into the bar. He looks up and down the bar and slowly says, “Is the bartender here?”
So, I must tell you, you speak as fluently as my father did. He told stories but he told them in poems. I love the differences in those two types of stories. Good job!!