Two Snotty Uncles Sitting to the Beat A Short Story by Anonymous Clarke Greenway had always loved deserted Sydney with its tall, tame trees. It was a place where he felt sleepy. He was a spiteful, brave, beer drinker with wide toenails and fat lips. His friends saw him as a purple, panicky painter. Once, he had even helped a vague injured bird cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.
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