[ WP ] A story with no point . Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution .

We ca n't bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell'em stories that do n't go anywhere - like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on'em. Give me five bees for a quarter, you'd say. 
 Now where were we? Oh yeah: the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They did n't have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...
