My neighbor Crandall stops by.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“Everything is nearly copacetic. And why shouldn’t it be? I’m a handsome, well-educated fellow (I’ve seen every episode of Gilligan’s Island at least four times) whose fast food elbow has almost healed. My old car has been pumping more oil than BP, so I took it into Jack Tupp. Possum, who’s working at Jack’s garage just called to tell me that my car was ready — ready to be towed to the junkyard. On top of that, I lost a sock. It won’t do me any good to look for it. I could never find it because I don’t know if I’m looking for the left or the right sock.”
“You should buy some new socks and a new car,” I advise.
“Maybe I will. I have a little money. I sold all of the brown cows. I kept the black ones. You might say that I mooved some cattle. Some of my little dogies are getting along.”