Sidewalk Wisdom

Balanced upon an overturned plastic milk crate in the tavern alley, I set my heavy beer mug down beside a grease-stained paper boat. Lifted a glistening drumette from the orange puddle with two steady claws. The glossy sauce caught the tavern's back neon like fresh lacquer on an electric guitar. A scruffy alley cat paused three paces away, whiskers twitching at the sharp cayenne vinegar steam. Never wash hot sauce off your paws, friend, I rasped with quiet gravity; it builds endurance and improves your pick grip. The cat gave me a deadpan blink and trotted off. Good talk. More crispy chicken for me.