On route to the best burger in New York, I rode my razor push scooter. I wanted to ride wild in the dark down sidewalks. It was the bald man's feeling of wind blowing in the hair – kind of an amputee's ghost limb experience. I wiped out. Skinned a knee and embedded gravel in my palms. Felt like the13-year-old George bleeding from the knee and too young and dumb to care. Scooting to the subwaystation, It occurred to me I had Brooklyn sidewalk dirt in my cut – wino urine for sure. The smart move went to a pharmacy and got Hydrogen peroxide. It isn't supposed to sting - It did. Fall off the horse, get back on. I scooted to the best cheeseburger in New York - $16. It came with an American flag stuck deep I the bun.
Remarks by George Furman
My family is originally from Brooklyn. Furman Street runs right under the Brooklyn Bridge, which is how I came to own the bridge. It provides a good living. It does require work, but it's a labor of love and the bridge toll does pay well. I am the last member of my family and sadly arthritis has set in and I'm unable manage the Brooklyn Bridge the way my family has for generation. All good things must come to an end. I must sell the bridge and live my life out in a wheel chair in the quaint town of Cookeville, Tennessee. If you are interested in a good reliable income and a great retirement investment please contact me soon. The Brooklyn Bridge is for sale – cash only.