She :Hickey!
Me: Come here. Come here.
She: Hickey!! We are in a row boat.
Me: Hurry up!
She: The loons.
Me: The loons.
She: They're welcoming us back.
Me: I don't hear a thing.
She: Just look at this place.
Me: It's a mess, isn't it? Sun Times. Tribune. I didn't get the Southtown, cuz it's the Tribune and the Trib is buying the Sun Times and its the same horseshit, different layout and Yes that's my wrapper.
She: Just take a second.
Me: It'll be all shipshape again. It was a PayDay and you don't like caramel with peanuts and too much salt.
She: And warmer.
Me: Huh.
She: The phone works!
Me: At least I think it does. I got it here in my pocket, Hey, we're in a damn rented row boat.
She: Hello? Hello! Hello!
Me: Who the hell is that?
She: Who the hell's?
Me: . . .in this picture here?
She: Who the hell is this? Hello! Who's this?
Me: The operator? We are no where near a phone, but my cell phone and you won't let me turn the damn thing on when I am with you.
She: What do you want?
Me: The operator on the imaginary phone?
She: Well, you called.
Me: Must want somethin'.
She: Oh, wait a minute. There Mr. Hickey. I am just showing you how it feels when you pick up your phone in mid-conversation and then segue all over the universe with Pick, or Houlie, or whomever you put on speed dial. And another thing, candy wrappers do not belong on the floor . . .
Me: Deck.
She: Deck of anything and they are not good for your dental health and "Who the Hell is that?"
Me: Yeah this guy right here on the front page.
She I have no idea, but perhaps there is a caption with his name.
Me: Nah, just the a guy over Rahm's shoulder. I thought it was Forest Claypool but the guy's mouth isn't all slack jawed. Article tells " Emanuel has raised his profile after Trump's election" - His profile is pretty much like the pin the tail on the donkey - 15 shot and three day yesterday.
She: Oh, Hickey! It's so beautiful.
Me: Everything's just waking up.
She: Little, tiny birds.
Me: Little, tiny leaves.
She: I saw a patch of little, tiny flowers over by the old cellar hole.
I forget what they're called.Little, tiny, yellow things.
Me: Well, want to help me with the rowing?
She: I don't have anything else to do.
Me: Come on.
She: What were you doin' Out in the woods?
Me: what do you think I was doing?
She: Getting wood.
Me: I love when you talk dirty.
She: That will do. Now, you scowling. Put the papers in the trash sack with your Pay Day wrapper. Enjoy this beautiful sunny day and nature that God has blessed us with and remember everything is not politics.
Me: You done?
She: That was rather tearse,
Me: It seems that Trump did in the Lindberg baby and sold crack to Lindsey Lohan . . .or Lindsey Graham.
She: Row. You are my Knight in Shining Armor
Me: Can we stop at Pops for Italian Beef Combos.
She: Row, You Old Poop.
Me: Pops.
