Local Bear admits, "I'm the
It's late, you've tossed back one,
two, or maybe twelve. Who can keep track. All you know is you really
have to light a smoke, welding torch, brush fire, what have you.
But for the life of you, you can't find that godamn lighter.
Oh it was me all right. Don't be so
shocked, I wasn't always the suave, debonair, fellow you see before
you. No, it started innocently enough back in 19-some odd-2. You
know the drill, going out with friends for beers and fueled fun.
In the morning it was always the same. No recollection of the nights
debauchery, but a dresser of lighters.
It was after 12-day butane and bourbon
binge that I realized, I not only had a wicked hangover, I also
had a knack for stealing lighters.
Well long story short: My international
lighter cartel now surrounds the globe. It's actually quite scary
how easy it was once I had infiltrated Santa's delivery infrastructure.
Those elves have quite the knack for lifting one's spirits* (*elven
So next time your bloodshot eyes
search high and low for that "damn lighter" save your
Chances are my men were already there.