He was there, you know, that guy. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, tucked into his bootcut jeans over a paunch, and yes, boots. Probably cowboy boots.
He has small black sunglasses on and collar-length hair. He is rather too ready with his rather too strong opinions and tries voicing them rather too loudly to make friends with people that are much younger than him.
You know the guy, he hangs around music shops, comic book stores, and anywhere that sells anything to do with jazz. He was there, and he needed a breath mint. I think his name is Richard, but most people shorten it.
| Would this have been funnier if he hadn't become that guy? |
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