On Tartan Day, after being kilted in the streets all day, I finally made it home, real late, and very tired. When I got to my neighborhood, which is full of trendy bars and clubs, I hear this guy yell, "Hey nice skirt...you look real sexy in it!" I just stood silently, waiting for the light to change. He yelled at me again. I just stayed quiet; I was too tired to come up with a witty response and went on my way, not wanting to get into a confrontation with some drunk.
A few blocks later, a guy says, "Great kilt!" I smiled, said "Thanks." We chatted, one thing led to another, and I finally walked the last few blocks home early the next morning...
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And this shall be for music, when no one else is near; The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear; That only I remember, that only you admire; Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. (RL Stevenson)
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