Someone at a run of the Little Rock Hash House Harriers asked Rock what he would want his obituary to say, and he said, "Rock, who died after he was shot by a 32-year-old husband with whose wife he was having an affair, was 106 and sharp as a fucking tack."
Later he sat back against a large boulder at the right side of a pretty woman named Trisha. Though her husband sat to her left, she leaned her head on Rock's shoulder. "You are so funny," she said. "I love you, Rock."
No comments:
Post a Comment