Look what I saw Saturday on the way home from a 44 oz Diet Coke run to the gas station chicken store:
He can't drive 35. Heck. He can't even stay alive!
No, I did not run over him. He was there on the way, too, but I had a better photo op on the way back. Look how artsy-fartsy Mrs. HM is with her hand-me-down phone camera! This is from behind the wheel of my Acadia. A-Cad. Because you may recall from elsewhere that I had major automotive troubles on Saturday, and T-Hoe had to stay home sick.
No, the hood of A-Cad is not misshapen. That's the style, baby! And that 35 mph speed limit reflection was a happy accident that I did not notice until now.
Poor Mr. Army Dillow. He was having an even worse day than T-Hoe. I don't think there is any recovering from what ails him. In fact, I know so! Because today, I saw him about a quarter mile up the road, not so put together, with three birds of prey sitting on him until I got really close. Sure, it could be a totally different Mr. Army Dillow, a doppelganger, perhaps, and the photogenic original Mr. Army Dillow got up and walked away.
AND INTO YOUR NIGHTMARES!