A Tireade

A tirade It is nearing my birthday, and I hate the thought my wife asks me what I want, and suggests an electric bike with three wheels: she refuses if I want a bike I have to buy one myself. Last year's birthday, I was invited out, and plenty of meat washed down with beer, everyone had a good time but I ended up settling the bill. Sigh, and there is Christmas which I like less, this bloody rush and intense traffic, but it is also the time when the haves walk out in the night to feed the poor one day is enough kindness. The supermarket is full the noise, which makes me wobbly I sweat run to my car and hide till she rings, she has a trolley full. As a child, I got a fire truck made of wood it had four-wheel that quickly fell off, but I was a fire-man In the corner of the living room; I also got toothpaste and ditto brush of an elderly aunt (everyone was old when I was a child) mother told me to say thank you.