Busking 4

I’ve been busking most lately at 7th and 51st. Since I don’t sing or play an instrument, I’ve been offering the following:

1. I stick a Glock 9mm to your dome and tell you to hand over $1 dawg or I’ll blow your mother-f**king head off.

2. I stick a shiv to your jugular and tell you to fork over $1 bro to maintain the vein or I’ll bleed you out till you whiter than I am.

3. I hover a knout over your cranium and tell you to lend me $1 dude or I’ll expose your brains to the light of day if you in actual truth have any.

4. I wrap my hands around your throat and tell you to advance me $1 fool or I’ll disallow the passage of O2 into your sorry lungs while I’m wringing  your scrawny neck like a chicken.

5. I take you and your family hostage, subject you to a one-hour rant on tourists and how they’re no better than cockroaches, steal your souvenirs and your wife’s knock-off purse, and check your ID for your home address, so that if you ever even think of coming back to the city, I will come over there and hunt you and everyone related to you down like dogs.

Because that last one takes longer than the others, I’m hoping for a donation of at least $2 for it.

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