My wife has known me for thirty years now, and knows that I hate alcohol and am absolutely not interested in doing anything that would involve gin and glitter. But she would laugh at the picture, knowing that someone had got me somehow. And she would tease me mercilessly about it.
BT would be hiding in his basement, for fear of the water balloon deluge coming his way. He would be looking for an umbrella sturdy enough to weather the storm, knowing that such an umbrella didn't exist. And then, he would start figuring out how to appease my desire for revenge. I'm thinking some good ribeyes and a day of fishing somewhere where the fish are huge and plentiful, and hungry, with BT paying for it from his vast wealth.
Hey, this is all fantasy so he's got vast amounts of wealth and a private pontoon plane that can fly us up into some forgotten lake in Canada.
And BT is seriously hoping that I don't get in touch with his wife, to give her pointers.
But it's all good, Bucky. I forgive you for your impetuously boyish behavior. Let's go to the hottub and fire up the grill. We'll have a cooking throwdown and invite Mudbug and freinds to be the judges. I'm thinking crown rib..., pork crown rib. How's that sound to you?
Oh, and did I tell you how wonderfully devilish your wife sounds? She absolutely bust a gut at some of the ideas I gave her. Interesting woman.
And one more thing BT, I won't put rocks in your Holloween bag this year.
Seeeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North