Lucky Tiger

Lucky Tiger

         “Cold—God it’s cold!” Pete thought, pulling the tattered coat tighter.

         With cold induced hebetude he downed the bottle of Lucky Tiger hair tonic, which was sixteen percent alcohol. It slightly abated his withdrawals.

         “I’ll die if I don’t find shelter tonight! Gotta get outa’ this cold!”

         From out of nowhere strong hands grabbed Pete’s shoulders swinging him around and causing him to drop the stolen purse.

         A voice boomed, “Sorry old timer—you’re gonna spend the night in jail--can’t go around stealing ladies purses.”

         “Thanks God,” Pete thought, snickering under his breath, “Thanks!”