I had an uncle named Julius, he was well over four feet. And I was named after him, 'cause we were under some peculiar impression that he had money. As a matter of fact, my father wanted to throw him out of the house, but my mother said "No, no, I remember, I read a story once in which a man was supposed to be broke, and when he died, he left a lot of money". So they named me Julius. He never worked anyhow, he was just in the house, sitting there. He finally died, and he left a will. His will consisted of a celluloid dickie, an eightball, and three razorblades. And besides he owed my father eighty-five dollars, which he never did get from him.
Then we had a sister. She wasn't really our sister, she was an adopted sister. The father of that sister had gotten a look at this girl and fled to Canada, and we never saw him again. But the girl stayed with us, and her name was Polly. Polly didn't.. she wasn't a bad looking girl, but her rear end stuck way out. You could play pinochle on her rear end.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
