Rasputin was wasted again.
From a couch in the corner I rubbed my eyes and watched, amazed, as he lifted another bottle and polished it off . He finished with a growled belch and a rub of his stomach.
I downed a healthy hit from my own bottle . “ And good morning to you, Father Grigori.” With
Rasputin on one of his rages I felt It best to join him.
Continue reading “Take the Giants in Five by John Giarratana”
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