Peril #1: He hits like a sledge hammer. Gin and rum and vodka oh my! They go down smooth and all business like, but try and face off with Scottish might you find yourself giddy stumbling in fright.
Peril #2: Foolishly attempting to do push-ups with the similarly foolish intent of bettering an ail-ling physique immediately after facing of with good old Johnny Walker, which leads to the disaster of nearly falling flat on your face supported only by triceps that haven't completely evaporated into air. Thank god the loss of motor function was only limited to: everything from neck down.
Boy, am I tired. And I still have to wake up early to meet the doctor in the north and travel down to town to collect the last pay check from the Chocolate place. Fucking croissant!
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