The Greasy Bandage Man

Little Tommy was startled from his sleep by the sound of breaking glass. A tall, skinny man wearing bicycle shorts and a blood stained tank top pushed himself up from the floor and looked back at the broken window.

“Aw shit, kid. Sorry bout tha window!” he said, in a gravelly voice that sounded like he had smoked one too many cigarettes.

The kids eyes widened and he grinned, “GREASY BANDAGE MAN ! IT’S REALLY YOU !”

The Greasy Bandage Man grinned, showing his mouth full of gold teeth. He stretched out his track-marked arms and said, in a cheerful voice, “Damn straight it’s me!”

Little Tommy stood on his bed and jumped up and down. “GIMMIE A GREASY BANDAGE !”

The Greasy Bandage Man lit a rolled cigarette and blew the smoke in the boys face. “Tell ya what,” he said, “I’ll give ya two!” Then he snapped his fingers and two grease covered bandages appeared in his dirty hand.

The boy snatched the bandages up and shouted, “Mom! Dad! I got two greasy bandages this year! I must have been a good boy!”

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