“I can get you one. It’s no trouble.”
“It’s just not my style of hat, Croz.”
“You’d look good in one. Plus, it’s got the holes in it so your head stays nice and cool.”
“Really. I’m good.”
“How about underwear?”
“What?”
“Crocheted underwear.”
“That’s a thing?”
“I’m wearing a pair right now.”
“Are they comfortable?”
“It’s like a yarn shop is making love to my balls.”
“So…uncomfortable?”
“No. They’re great. What size are you?”
“I don’t want macrame skivvies, man.”
“Your loss. Well, your balls’ loss.”
“So be it.”
…
“Hey, uh, Lesh.”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“I got a weird question.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s kinda weird. And personal.”
“We’ve known each other for 50 years,man. You can ask me anything.”
“Okay, cool. Here goes: does your liver talk to you?”
“Constantly.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought I was going nuts.”
“Been having an active, though sub rosa, conversation with the thing since I got it.”
“So good to hear. What do you two talk about?”
“Buffalo Sabres.”
“Huh?”
“My liver’s a big fan of the Sabres.”
“Weird.”
“Tell me about it. I had to learn about hockey. And Buffalo. But, yeah, you’re cool.”
“That puts my mind at ease. Listen, I’m just gonna get you a hat and you’ll decide whether or not to wear it.”
“I’ve already decided. Do not buy me one of those Weird Harold hats.”
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