The Pony has a friend who is a cool guy, but a bit on the pale side. He's quite fair. Translucent, almost. Like a vampire victim at dawn. Ghosts standing next to him would look tanned. Maggots would recoil at his hue. He is obviously a descendant of a cave-dwelling people who were not exposed to ultraviolet light for centuries. Cave-dwelling people just shy of losing their eyes for lack of usage in the dark depths. His shed skin cells could be used to make reflective paint suitable for striping the Channel Tunnel connecting France to England. If he were to partake of a nocturnal hang-glide, he would light up the night sky like Comet Hale-Bopp.
The dude is light-complected.
The Pony wanted McDonald's after our trip to The Devil's Playground on Sunday. We waited in line for quite some time. The Pony fiddled with his laptop in the seat behind me. I tried to make small talk, only to be met with "uh huh" and "yeah" and "sure." I was not about to waste T-Hoe's precious fluids by running the engine while in line. I restarted to inch forward at the speed of a lame Galapagos Tortoise.
A family chose to exit on the same side of the establishment as the drive-thru lane. They crossed our queue several vehicles ahead of us, their red-headed teenage daughter trailing behind. "Would you look at that! That girl is whiter than your buddy! Look at her! She's like...your buddy to the 100th power! The sun cannot look directly at her! Snow above the Arctic Circle at high noon on the summer solstice looks like tar in comparison! A single skin cell glued to the end of a dowel rod, pointed toward the heavens, could signal a civilization on the opposite side of the universe that life exists here!
I felt T-Hoe vibrate as The Pony shifted in his seat. I caught his eye in the mirror as he looked up and spoke. "You realize, don't you, that your windows are down?"