Sometimes, late at night, I can hear the plaintive wail of a tiny harmonica and the squeaky strains of “Nobody know de trouble Ah’s seed, nobody know but me.....”
It’s pitiful, really.
[his recent request for a tin cup was denied]
*Snort* [giggles] Just tell him that he would need a hand transplant to use the tin cup, and there are no snake hands available right now. (you ain’t lyin’!)