His stomach had been hurting for weeks now, no one was participating in T-Shirt Tuesday, and the tambourine’s the instrument they give to the kid who’s not allowed to use metal cutlery in the cafeteria: Pig was having a shitty night.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: t-shirt tuesday
Ain’t no Tuesday like a T-Shirt Tuesday, cuz a T-Shirt Tuesday don’t stop.
Garcia, put your boots in your pant legs: you’re not in the cavalry.
One day, Mickey grabbed Pig’s elbow and launched into a lecture on the history and culture of the congas, which he of course insisted on pronouncing COOON-gass and had gotten up to their role in Bolivar’s push for independence when Pig spat a wad of tobacco juice on the floor.
“Yeah, man, I just smack on ’em like they was colored girl titties,” and then Pig walked away.
It was the third T-Shirt Tuesday in a row that only Parish had participated in and Pig had just about had it.
Sometimes, it was like no one had any respect for T-shirt Tuesday, and Phil noticed. It was one of the things he wrote down in his book.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, loved T-Shirt Tuesday more than Pigpen.
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