I’m telling your Mommy.
When I was a teen, I worked in a pool hall with an attached liquor store and a drive-thru window.
I had keys to the place.
The owner told me to pay for whatever I took.
When he was having a party at his house, he would send me to the liquor store to get more booze when they were running low.
I would drive his big cream-colored Electra 225 to the liquor store, with the top down, and fill the trunk and back seat up with cases and bottles of booze and drive right through the middle of town and back to his house.
Those were the days I could go into any pool hall, club or bar for miles around and drink without anyone ever asking me for an ID and they knew I was underage.
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