tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7718472.post-57233966556979662182007-11-29T00:33:00.000-08:002007-11-29T11:06:04.632-08:00<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_COmkK2owy8w/R0FMk3zLsaI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/eM8MkAQY6oM/s1600-h/asleep.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134469246516703650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_COmkK2owy8w/R0FMk3zLsaI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/eM8MkAQY6oM/s320/asleep.bmp" border="0" /></a> He looks like Sonny, who at 45 years old, still lives with his mother in a modest trailer home down by the river. She had put up with having to cook for him and clean up after him, but after all these years and Sonny still insisting that she dress him every morning as well, at 74 years old, she finally decided to do what she should have done in the beginning--she waited until Sonny drank himself unconscious on Wild Turkey, then paid the two teenage boys next door to haul him into the city and drop him off on the church steps in hopes that the kind Sisters of St Mary would take him in. She took comfort in the fact that since Sonny had never been more than 2 blocks away from his own home, the bastard most likely wouldn't be able to find his way back home.<br /><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7718472-5723396655697966218?l=helookslike.blogspot.com'/></div>3am wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15862304260055493375noreply@blogger.com5