“Are you seeing this?” Aaron asked me, laughing as we drove along.
“No, what?” I was looking out the window in the opposite direction.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HIS BUTT CRACK IS HANGING OUT!”
“I think his underwear are from 1970.”
We laughed and laughed as we drove past. It’s not every day that you see an old man mowing the lawn right next to a busy road wearing only his droopy maroon underpants, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and skin that resembled leather. Only in the western suburbs….
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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson