That Farmer H! He serves 'em up to me like he's a waiter in a five-star Michelin restaurant. Like he's a courier delivering papers for the prosecutor in district court. Like he's a private coach for the defending high school state tennis champion.
Today, as he was sweaving to and fro up the interstate on the way to the casino, I dared ask why he didn't just hold the wheel steady.
"HM. I have driven a LOT of miles since I first met you."
Oh, such a gift. Like a nice fat softball lofted across the plate, home team down by three, with bases loaded and two outs at the bottom of the ninth. I almost felt guilty hitting this one out of the park.
"Actually, you've driven EVEN MORE miles than you think you have, accounting for all that center line to sideline movement!"
C'mon! Who plays drums? Give me that rimshot...
Thank you! I'll be here the rest of my life!