Give us this day our daily bread.
“Yeah, been partying since I was fourteen, never thought I'd wind-up in a place like this,” I sat there for a moment in quiet reflection, “been high most of my life . . . on one thing or another . . . guess it's time I giddyuped and got going on this clean up my act thing, I've hit the break point . . . gotta' do something . . . do something or it's going to kill me."
I was passable enough when I went with the tinker, though nothing to boast of then; but what with blowing the fire with my mouth when I was young, and spileing my complexion, and singeing my hair off, and swallering the smoke, and what with being nat’rally unfort’nate in the way of running against hot metal and marking myself by sich means, and what with having turn-ups with the tinker as I got older, almost whenever he was too far gone in drink—which was almost always—my beauty was queer, wery queer, even at that time.
“It could foreseeably be admissible,” said Gerald Lefcourt, a defense lawyer with experience in both criminal and celebrity cases.
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