I Think That I Shall Never See A Boy As Sensitive As The Pony

The Pony’s prom date has voiced several times her fear that her dress will not fit into The Pony’s Ford Ranger cab. As you may recall, The Pony teasingly told me that he might just say to her, loudly, in front of others, “I moved my seat back as far as it would go. I guess you’ll fit.” That’s after I told him to be sensitive to her feelings about the size of her hoop skirt.

You might also recall that The Pony’s air conditioner was broken. Farmer H worked on it Monday evening. He injected some neon green stuff into it, perhaps whatever passes for Freon these days. He told The Pony to run his air conditioner on the way home from school Tuesday, and that the leak would be findable due to the bright fluid. The Pony ran it, the air cooled, and he saw no evidence of a leak.

“That’s good. I guess you won’t have to bring deodorant for her now.”

“That is so wrong! How can you say that?”

“I’m not saying she stinks. Just that she might have been sweaty if you didn’t have air, and if the weather is hot on prom night. YOU’RE the one who was going to tell her you guessed she’d fit in your truck.”

“Still. That’s wrong. Don’t ever say that again.”

“Fine. I guess if her dress won’t fit up front, you could take her in grandma’s Trailblazer. Wait! Dad is taking that to the airport now. Maybe you could tell her she can ride in the back of your truck.”

“Yes, mother. I will say, ‘There’s plenty of room in my bed for you.’”

I think he set me up for that one.