If only! Problem is, gun violence almost always seems to affect the undeserving. Snotty maitre d’s live on forever.
Tank doesn’t want to know. In any case, Buck would lie about it just to humiliate Tank. Some pal, right?
Aha! Brother Leon the artist has worked his magic on behalf of Earl. Do you suppose he’ll ever repeal the law of gravity vis-a-vis Opal’s, uh, lady front parts? I think not; some things are beyond the powers of even God and cartoonists to fix.
How to ask Barb to reveal the damaged message? She doesn’t know Tank has a dog, so she isn’t going to buy the lame old my-dog-ate-the-Valentine’s-card excuse. He’d have to preface his request by saying “Well, first, I have this new dog named Spike. . .” Even then, Barb would be suspicious and starting to get P.O.ed. This is going to be rich!
When they nearly kissed a day or so ago. Maybe you blinked; it was over real quick.
That’s the old nickname for the East German secret police: Staatssicherheitdienst (I think).
Or maybe you could cook all along, Timbob, but were smart enough early on to burn the water or put metal in the microwave—insuring that you’d never have to lift a finger in the kitchen again. I have a feeling this was Earl’s strategy from the beginning. This assumes your wife is a great cook to begin with.
The last time I went to pat a dog tied up outside a cafe, its owner came out and chided me, saying you should never pat a strange dog. I had to admit he was right; you never know. Now I wait till the owner’s present, and then I always ask permission to say hello to the dog.
I’d go just for the name.
Great book. I never watched the TV series.