That one guy

He was built like a beer keg
And at 2 in the afternoon, filled with the same stuff.

He was that one guy.
The centre of his own world, and the pivot point of all that knew him.

He’d flick his friend’s balls
And make sure they knew it was funny. It was bants. Just a laugh.

They were lucky to know him.
His company was the one to be a part of. It was certainly the loudest.

Heads would turn.
They’d look in his direction, following the sound of raucous laughter.


People would stare.
“Let them look,” he’d shout. The most modest of his two volumes.

The band played on.
He knew all of the words. Of course he did. His friends were so impressed.


I thought he was a cunt.

Hey, listen!

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