Hey, Pig. Whatcha doing?
“Rantin’, ravin’, throwin’ it down.
Yeah.
“How ’bout you? Seem bothered, and not ‘hot and…’ Just bothered.”
Getting old, Pig.
“Yeah, what’s that like?”
Doors closing, it seems.
“You dead?”
No.
“Then them doors ain’t locked! Only thing getting locked up here is your heart, Mr. Joke Man.”
Just seems lately that things I’m not happy about are permanent.
“There’s only one permanent condition, and it’s the one I got. You just scared. Outta practice at bein’ yoself!”
Ha.
“Ya too damn old to die young, boy. Might as well cause some trouble.”
You always did seem like the reasonable one, Pig.
“Then how come that crazy fuckin’ Billy is gonna live to be a hundred and I got to die like a rock star?”
Who told you the world was fair?
“Lemme guess: yo’ daddy tol’ you that?”
Yup.
“Ha! Mine, too!”
…
“It don’t hurt.”
Dying?
“Dyin’, yeah. Don’t hurt. Not like life. That shit’ll scar ya.”
…
“Hey, uh…so…the ol’ Pig was looking at that device Phil stole from the future: the My Phone?”
Close enough.
“And there’s all sortsa pictures and whatnot and I got ta looking, and…”
Yes?
“Can you introduce me to Beyoncé?”
You can’t afford her.
“Fair enough.”
42? You’re only as old as the Wall of Sound.
47, now *that’s* old.
Pig’s gone 42 years yesterday (3/8/73)
Buck knife at the hip? If so, that dagger has the name of david crosby and both of those “awe-man! brothers” on it. Not no peach slicing knife….
Had he lived any carried out such a mission, chaz would be a much different person today….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAf-b4LFx-A