New Clothes & No Morals

Met the Big Bad Wolf once down in New Orleans.

He had an alligator on a leash, said his name was Swamp Thing.

We hit it off and the whiskey started to flow.

It was a wild night, fueled with good times and bad decisions.

The next morning, I awoke in a seedy motel room on the wrong side of town.

Couldn’t remember a damn thing, had the mother of all hangovers, and blood was everywhere.

I was also wearing a wolf pelt suit and gator-skin boots.

Moral of the story?

Hell, I don’t know, but I dig these new threads.

Feel a little bad for poor Swamp Thing, he didn’t deserve that.

But the wolf…

he was kind of an asshole.

©2020 J.D.C.IV

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