I was down in the dumps with time on my hands. It was hotter than the hinges on the doors to hell, and I’d just been given the third degree by my young man’s fancy.

It was a gas until she caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I’d be dead as dead can be, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going. I exited stage right as she threw me an icy stare that could have frozen the balls off a brass monkey.

I was back at square one when a girl as pretty as pudding pie walked by with her high-beams on and let her hair down. Not to gild the lily like a silver tongued orator, but she made me grin like a possum. We got along like a house on fire. I guess every cloud has a silver lining.

So there I am, as happy as a hog in slop when my ball and chain asks to get back in on the action. Well, two’s company and three’s a crowd, but I’m not as dumb as a sack of hammers. I like to act in haste and repent in leisure, so I was all over that like a fat kid on a Smartie.

Every man has his price.