Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Losing a wrestling match, seems like.”
That is an enormous guitar.
“You need a permit for it in Mendocino County.”
Wow.
“So, uh, you still got Covid?”
Cancer.
“I knew it started with a C. But I know you’re a bather, so it probably wasn’t crotchrot.”
Crotch is fine.
“Common cold. That’s two C’s right there. Although, cancer and crotchrot both have two C’s, too.”
I do not have the common cold. In fact, what I have is rare and I currently have a fever.
“Lemme ask you a question: how much spirulina are you ingesting daily?”
None.
“Good. Stay the hell away from that crap. Superfood, my ass. Spent a long weekend on a Taos toilet after I tried that garbage.”
Avoid spirulina. Gotcha.
“Lemme ask you another question: Are you positive that you didn’t piss off a gypsy woman a few months ago?”
No such thing as a gypsy curse, Bobby.
“Sure there is. We’re discussing it right now. You even know how to spell it.”
…
I didn’t anger any gypsy women.
“Gotta be polite to ’em. I mean, you should be well-mannered with everyone you meet in your travels, but y’gotta give those ladies a wide berth. Deer, too.”
What?
“Deer’ll kick your ass. Bambi was a lie.”
I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore.
“Well, uh, whose fault is that?”
True.
no potato salad comment? you really must not be feeling well!
Rosin’ Bob and Guild ‘n’ stern