I've switched from coffee to tea, from the Pogues to the Dubliners,
from electric guitar to the banjo, from Colt 45 to Mickey's. I get up
in the morning, Wigleaf. I don't get down at night. I almost signed up
for summer camp, and I hate summer camp. What's happening to me,
Wigleaf? Remember when we used to sit on the porch with that dog? The
one who didn't smell so good? And we talked?
- - -
Read LP's story, "Theodore and Darlene Were Sweethearts."
w i g · l e a F