Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Losing a wrestling match, seems like.”
That is an enormous guitar.
“You need a permit for it in Mendocino County.”
“So, uh, you still got Covid?”
“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?”
“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.”
“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?”