Sitting outside, smoking a cigar, drinking a Manhattan, listening to the fireworks, and then...
BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*
It sounded like a live-fire range at Ft. Riley. I couldn't count the number of people that were outside shooting guns into the air.
I wanted a concrete roof at that point. Holy moly, folks. What goes up, must come down!
I'm kind of at the point where I'm more than ready to leave this town.
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