This guy brought me to some kind of awesome movie place. It was a place where movies "live", I think. They're born and die there, on account of the movies not having any means of moving. Even when they say "this flick's got legs", I think they mean it in the way where you say something and don't mean it. Talking "metaphors" and that kind of thing. Because a film can't have legs, because the film isn't a thing, you know. So it'd just be legs.

Rustled up some floor fixings and bubbled up a pot of stew for this one. Sprinkled in some floor salt on the way to the feast, and you wouldn't believe the shocking turn of events. This fellow thought it was all holistic. Well, as a matter of fact, there's a formula to it. It's got a sequence.

I don't know where and when this one came knocking, but I sure do know a hell of a lot about the "why", where the lot of this generation wouldn't dare to get "wise" and smarten up to the facts that are staring them in the face. Truth is, this one's had the worn marks of wisdom etched in since "day one", facing danger and dastardly ne'er-do-wells with gumption. I reckon a man with that sort of character never did "sweat it" or "gas out"; he's always been stocked for the long haul, and with an extra wheel to boot, in the unlikely event which'n he maybe ended up incapacitated, in distress, and with a leather-tough hand outstretched. Most folk who do the job RIGHT and stomp it all flat wouldn't have it in them to grab their shovel and dig DEEP to fix a mistake. But this one's got HEART and HUMILITY to know when it's time, and how to make COWBOY TALK while deep in the dust.

C'rect. C'rect. C'rect. This one gets them "spot on" every time, on account of being a 'Major': Maj. History Buff, that is. Well, count me out: there's no room to play second-fiddle when this guy takes up the spotlight. That would be illegal!

This guy came to my house and stole all of my vintage Floam!

I'm sick of hearing this guy constantly talking about ticks and tacks. Like the things you put in the wall to attach a poster, or what-not? He might be a professional "Tick Tacker" or what not, on the "A.P.P.", but I reckon there's been a change. Apparently I owe a couple of tacks to him, or someone he knows. I think that's ludicrous, because in this country, a man's entitled to hoard as many tacks as he wants. Unless he meant something else. I sure hope he didn't, on account of him being from that generation that tends to shorten a thing or two until there's nothing left to comprehend to an old Foghorn Joe like me, who still spells it all out right and proper. But I'm starting to figure he may have smelled my breath after drinking my Anti-Ballistic Missile Coffee (egg and sulfur). Maybe he was telling me I need one of those "tick tack" candies. I'll "put a pin in it" and figure it out the next time I run across him. Maybe slip him a bill to thank him for sharing his nose.