Darrell Vickers – Farting Through Nylon Chapter Three: You Don’t Know What Lonesome Is Till You Get to Herdin’ Cows

On the way home from my business-world triumph, I purchased a bottle of a reasonably potable vintage and climbed up to the roof of my apartment to celebrate.  Kind of a “Top of the World, Ma” moment.  Or was it “King of the World”?  I think “Top of the World” might have been what Edward G. Robinson yelled right before he got shot to death.  That is totally not the mood I was in.  Or so I thought.