“You know what? Yeah, I am. It’s been a tense couple of weeks.”
“What about karaoke tonight? We could do our ‘I Can’t Go for That.’”
“You know it. Hall and Oates kills every time.”
I remember something that could get me to two–nil for the first time this year. “Hey, Zeb. Listen. You know that melted-looking pier down by the Intrepid we used to wonder about? Remember that one? I called the mayor’s office and found out what caused the collapse.”
Zeb snorts. “Yeah, don’t tell me: pier pressure, right?”
Dick.