I'll miss your hat and your wooden hand or gun or whatever it is you're pointing up into the air, hopefully trying to stop your horse, which I will also miss, from running into that rock. I'll miss your scarf, flapping in the wind, and I will miss your pointy nose.
I'll even miss your one sullen employee, who will not look up from the episode of COPS playing on the TV next to the register when he rings me out. But what I will miss the most, Kit Carson Liquor, is your cold Pacifico beer, which is sadly unavailable in Burlington, Vermont, but I will enjoy one last bottle tonight while I pack my bags...
