“Who’s this jamoke?”
“This? He’s, uh, Top of the Pops. Tom of the Dell. Something in that neighborhood. He writes about us.”
“Seems squirrely. Want me to bop him?”
“No, no. He’s okay.”
“I got my knife. I could saw through his achilles tendon real easy.”
“Overkill. Parish, he’s fine.”
“I got my eye on him.”
“Why do you think I’m so relaxed?”
…
“Parish?”
“Yuh-huh?”
“What, uh, exactly is going on with you and that blonde guitarist who’s young enough to be your granddaughter?”
“Purely Platonic.”
“Ah.”
“In the sense that Plato was Greek, and so I meant we only do anal.”
“Ah.”
Not sure I was ready for that much forehead.
I’m glad Bobby likes you.