Mackenzie is sitting at the bar complaining to the bartender and anyone else who happens to listen. “You see that fence over there?” he says, pointing outside the window, “I built that fence with my bare hands. Broke my back over that fence I did. But does anyone call me Mackenzie the fence builder? Oh, no…” He shakes his head and sighs and takes another sip of his drink.

Then he says, “You see that door over there, the good solid one? I built that door, I did, with my bare hands. Crafted every inch of it I did–Broke my back over that door, I tell you. But does anyone call me Mackenzie the door builder? Oh, no…” He sighs even more deeply and takes another sip of his drink.

“You see this bar here?” he drawls. “I built this bar here. I tell ya I built it with my bare hands. Broke my back over it, you know, and everyone says they've never seen another like it–so well crafted. But does anyone call me Mackenzie the bar builder?” He shakes his head slowly.

“But I swear, you f&(* one goat…”
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Englar! Opnið hjörtu ykkar og hleypið inn nýju hatri.
Engel mun leiða ykkur á ný.