You can hang on… You can hang on…
He struggled through thin halls with 10-meter falls below, despite his shaky legs, oft handling heavy boxes or stacks o’ papers–¡& not a sheet could fall! He concentrated on the diverse barking from all his customers. E’en mo’ insidious, he filled people’s glasses with liquor, based on complex orders comprised o’ 100 different types. He watched the clock slowly inch upward.
Then his heart leapt when it struck 12 AM. From a door in the shadows, his supervisor came out.
“Good job, Jamar. Here’s your reward.”
Jamar leapt for the bottle o’ Irish whisky–his own bottle for himself.