Bob was the waxed handlebar mustachioed private club bartender who charged senile members for drinks their medication didn't allow them to have. "Where's my damned drink, Bob?" "You drank it already." "Oh, I'm sorry, nevermind. Bring me another?" "Yes, sir."
40 words, 40 years 365 days, 365 people http://www.logolalia.com/40x365
