The Larry Chronicles: Part II

II.

Looking back, that was the turning point in our relationship. Call me a fuddy duddy, but I don't think it's cool to shake your dick at a Rastafarian. I'll admit that his behavior was often unpredictable, but the things he ended up doing were usually harmless and whimsical. For example, when we were staying at a hotel in Atlanta, he rubbed chocolate syrup all over the TV and complained to the front desk that BET was coming in blurry. We almost died laughing when they sent some poor schmuck to replace the soiled television.

But boner exposure? That's some gross pervert shit. People get locked up for less, and Larry's not built for prison. He's barely built for bookstores.