Look at you, all happy and barefoot.
“We had the rugs deep cleaned. I tried to get Josh to kick off his shoes, but he started talking about Ibaldi’s Theory of Lace Color, and I think I blacked out. The boy likes to explain his outfits.”
He does.
“So, uh, he’s still got his shells on.”
Shells?
“Your shells. Foot’s an oyster. Shoe’s the shell. Gotta slide on outta your shell, man. That’s where the living is done.”
All of you are getting weirder.
“Mickey is not only wearing shoes, but playing them.”
Sure. This is Mexico?
“Oh, yeah. It’s a hoot. Right on the beach, got the Holy Roller Monster Moon going. Nice check. Cannot complain about this check. Plus, uh, I wasn’t incapacitated by a shrimp taco this year.”
Right. Last year, you caught Montezuma’s Revenge.
“Rough 24 hours. Went through three toilets.”
Glad you’re healthy and happy.
“Better than the alternatives, yeah.”
I freshen up my heirloom carpets with Arm & Hammer. Just dump a box & rub it in, then later on break out the Dyson.
The band is reveling in a fresh carpet euphoria that few other pleasures in life equate.
Happy Thursday.
You want to know the secret to surviving air travel? After you get where you’re going, take off your shoes and your socks then walk around on the rug bare foot and make fists with your toes.
is that a Pigpen Ankle Hologram Tattoo™?
Good catch!