Yikes. Bear Lawyer doesn’t know what that hot dog vendor was doing in the middle of the field, let alone why he was carting around so many open bottles of ketchup, but even the spicy aroma of a slow-cooked offal tube could not distract BL from his dogged pursuit of the opposing team’s quarterback. Who, BL thinks—without admitting responsibility or culpability for either the penalty or for the injury in question—really ought to have his arm looked at by a medical professional. Maybe just apply steady pressure and wait for an ambulance?
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