Bright and early this morning, at the stroke of 9:30, Farmer H exited the shower, plopped his tighty-whiteyed butt down on the marital bed and announced, "I'm going to Goodwill and get some good gas."
Even half asleep, I knew something didn't sound right about that plan. "Goodwill doesn't sell gas! How are you going to get gas at Goodwill?"
"I'm not getting GAS at Goodwill. I'm going to Goodwill, THEN I'm getting gas."
"Well, why didn't you say so?"
"Why do you need good gas? What kind of gas have you been buying?"
"For the 4-wheelers. It stinks coming out the exhaust. That's what happens when it sets too long. I can smell it. They put something in it that breaks it down."
"How are you going to get the bad gas out?"
"I'm going to run it out. I'll have the boys ride them until it burns out. I put some additive in there so they'll run."
So...he got the 4-wheelers running so he can drive them until they run out of gas, then he's going to put more gas in them. Because they smell when he drives them.
Farmer H talks kind of like some people write. I'm lucky that he has not yet shot an elephant in his pajamas.