Oh, by the way...
... Vernon, my grandmother's husband, came through his hose-in-the-tummy operation all right.
Before going home, we stopped by Sonic, where we experienced proof that Livingston H. S. had let out classes: a jacked-up black rusty pickup speeding around the circuit with Rodney Carrington* blasting from the stereo- not merely loud, not merely drown-out-the-Sonic-outdoor-speakers-loud, but HOLY-FUCK-THAT'S-LOUD, before screeching into a spot to finally order something.
Class, all the way, that boy.
(Rodney Carrington? No, I didn't recognize it. I looked it up when I got home. At the time my jaw was dropping that someone would deliberately blast a song with the refrain, "Titties and beer, titties and beer gawd DAMN I love me them titties and beer, I motherfucking LOVE titties and beer," etc. in Livingston. Boy doesn't know it, but consequences will eventually come of that...)
Before going home, we stopped by Sonic, where we experienced proof that Livingston H. S. had let out classes: a jacked-up black rusty pickup speeding around the circuit with Rodney Carrington* blasting from the stereo- not merely loud, not merely drown-out-the-Sonic-outdoor-speakers-loud, but HOLY-FUCK-THAT'S-LOUD, before screeching into a spot to finally order something.
Class, all the way, that boy.
(Rodney Carrington? No, I didn't recognize it. I looked it up when I got home. At the time my jaw was dropping that someone would deliberately blast a song with the refrain, "Titties and beer, titties and beer gawd DAMN I love me them titties and beer, I motherfucking LOVE titties and beer," etc. in Livingston. Boy doesn't know it, but consequences will eventually come of that...)