Well, if you give me a couple minutes of your time, I got a few things I'd like to talk to ya about. You know, eh, what you did wasn't really your fault. It's what you call, a eh, genetic defect. Mom called it the, the gene. My Grandfather had the gene, he eh, came over from the boat from Ireland in 1912 and I guess he passed it on to my Old Man. My Old Man was a great guy, a real pussy cat, you know hard worker. Big sports fan, but sometimes on his way home from the docks he liked to stop in with the guys and have a couple of beers, ya know. I remember coming home from school one day, and eh, the whole house was dark. Couldn't figure it out. I heard my Mom crying off in the dark someplace, and I was old enough at that point I could reach the light switch. I turned the lights on, and I saw, what he did to her. So I went to my room and I got, the eh, baseball bat. Mikey Mantel model my Old Man give me for Christmas, and I found the Old Man passed out in the bathtub, and I tattooed him. Needless to say, when I came home everyday from school after that, the eh, house is lit up like Ebbet's Field, and the Old Man eh, never drank again. So all I'm saying to you is if you wanna drink, you go ahead and drink. But if I ever find out that you laid your hands on that little girl again, me and Mr. Mantle are gonna pay you a visit my friend.
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