Wino no no

It only took one special bottle of wine to disappear from my cellar at home while I was at work one night.

Whitey claimed he didn’t know it was a “good” bottle before he had opened it, and then told me how delicious it was.

Not even a drop left.

So I found a sharpie and staked my claim, old school style.

Signs, signs, everywhere signs. Yet, now there’s no way he can polish off my Silver Oak without a fight.

 

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