The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)
Page 52
“Like the toilet paper?”
She shakes her head. “Ass. That little exercise did nothing for you. Seems like you could use another slice of humble pie.”
“Good habits die hard.”
“That’s old habits.”
“Potato, pot-tater.”
“Har, har.”
With an eye roll, she rises with the sound of the timer, puts on some crochet oven mitts, and pulls the piping hot rolls from the oven. “Finally, I could eat the ass end of a dead rhino.”
And that’s when I hang my head and lose it.
#newbestfriends #thelastlivingsnipehunter #lookatthatgolfclap #livingourrealestlife
Grannism—Don’t go cheap on the toilet paper, just don’t.
Theo
Laney’s cheerful greeting blares through my car speakers as I roll down the window for the pharmacy attendant and hand her my card.
“Theo! It’s hotter than Satan’s anus out here! Although I’m not sure the devil himself would buy real estate in Texas.”
“Laney, you’re on—”
“So, you’re not going to believe this. I’m doing my own version of Ghostin’ the Whip. Mother FORKER, that’s hot! Good news is, I got like almost a thousand likes out of my misfortune.”
“Way to make lemonade, Cox!”
“Fuckin’ A, Houseman! This is real lif—oh SHIT!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Radiator cap, I think I just gave myself my first tattoo…on my palm.”
A little old lady pulling up next to me looking mortified leans out of her window. “You shouldn’t let your kids talk like that.”
I pull my rearview toward me to check my reflection. Yep, still twenty-one.
“I’ll just pull back around,” I tell the pharmacist retrieving my card while simultaneously trying to reach my phone on the floorboard to disconnect the Bluetooth. “Is it too late to add some anti-wrinkle cream?”
“Don’t take it too personally, she’s ninety-four,” the teller says with a grin, just as Laney lets out another string of curses.
“Thanks for that. I feel much safer on the road now.”
She laughs, her eyes alight with amusement as Laney’s rant echoes off the walls of the drive-thru. “Better handle that.”
I sigh and nod just as Laney lets out more colorful words and turn the volume down. “I don’t think this is the type of woman that can be tamed.”
“I believe it.” The blue-haired woman says a car over. I can’t help my rebuttal.
“Yeah, I told her mother we should tie her back to the radiator. But she no longer believes in corporal punishment.”
“What’s that?” Blue hair leans in straining to h
ear more of the offensive voice coming through my car speakers.