Quote:
Originally Posted by 1Sunshine
His name was George. We did not always get along, and at times I feared him when he drank. Sometimes he would knock on my door when he was bombed...always smelling of whisky and wearing a 'wife-beater' T-shirt. I kept a can of wasp spray near by in case he became violent. (It works better than pepper spray.)
Anyway, on Friday we spoke about some issues. And agreed to a 'truce.' While I was at the beach, I found a beautifully colored seashell, and was planning to give it to him.
Upon arriving home, I saw many cars and boquets of flowers surrounding the house. George had died of a heart attack only hours after we had breakfast on Friday. Now I feel aweful about all those times we fought...
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What exactly did you feed this guy?!?