It happened. Finally. After five years of waiting. Five long years of watching the Crony Brothers sit in the front of their garage sipping ice-cold beer while I worked hard, sweating in my garden.
The Crony Brothers offered me a beer.
It took me by surprise. I simply wanted to let them know about the available garden plot at the local park.
So, while poor sedated Barnaby laid on the floor at home looking like a zombie, I gratefully sipped a Pabst Blue Ribbon and took in some sun with the Crony Brothers. The older brother tossed peanuts to the tame squirrels, told me stories, and commented on the pedestrians passing by.
“What is he trying to prove?” they muttered at the runner as he repeatedly ran by. I nodded along in agreement and I felt happy.