It is October, the acorns are falling from the trees. They hit the roof with a resounding pound and roll down the slope like marbles, to the gutter then to bounce a few times on the ground.
When the trees are full the acorns fall, one, one, twenty-one, one, one, twenty-one, in a rush with the leaves to fill the ground.
And all this has nothing to do with Butts, Booze and the Brain.
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