"Can I get a Guinness and a Shot a' Makers ..."

"Can I get a Guinness and a Shot a' Makers ..." My New York accent is thick... Ima' last of da' Mohicans in this joint; in many joints in NYC these dayz... The rich are swallowing my city whole keed' ; it worries me sick to my stomach ... The Half King is my spot, although I rarely see another mofo' that looks like me in this place. I met the ambassador to the US of Venezuela here once though ... He was cool, talked up a storm. The bartender is this young , tattooed goddess with a welcoming manner. Daniel knows me by name although I've only met her three, four times. I know, I know its her job but I like to imagine I'm different in her eyes. Had dinner with some dear friends in Hells Kitchen ... A little Peruvian cuisine... Thought I'd introduce my Scandinavian friends to a taste of a little South America; they loved it as I suspected ... It's a Tuesday, near midnight during the holiday season, the place is packed and cheerful ... I'm alone, stopping for "one mo" like those that love the drink do. At a loss of the written word for a while ... Put my pad down for a minute ... Take a swig of the Makers, wash it down with my Guinness ... Clench my teeth, they thump from the heat of the alcohol , like a heart beat. Cash is runnin' low these days , but somehow I manage the boozin' and the eatin'... Somehow I'm flush on the cusp of havin' rabbit ears ... Somehow , somehow brah'... I check my balance on my bank app frequently ! Damn ! A second swig finishes my shot ... I gulp it with a deep breath , exhale through my nostrils ... The buzz of the patrons continue and continue and I plug away ...