And then one day, “they” showed up. A criminal element the small bar had never seen or experienced, the Gang Of Three clearly had bad attitudes, bad breathe, and bad intentions.
“Where’s the milk, er..beer?” The toughest one asked to a scared bartender who trembled behind the soda fountain. “And tell me you have a good rubber ducky or fuzzy wooby for us, otherwise we’re takin’ out the new pair of sneakers we found in a box by the door. And the box. And the table cloth that’s hangin’ low enough to get at.” He said with a little woof.
“Yeah, where’s the milk?” His tough looking partner asked. “And I don’t want no rubber ducky, cause the squeaks scare me.. I want a wool sock!”
The “Gang of Three” have controlled our lives ever since.
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