Hobo Jungle

[2railjon]

Well, well, well. Isn't this odd? I'm the first one here for open bar once again. Hmmmmmm.

[P&R Pete]

*BONG*

Beer all around, on me, barkeep!

[2railjon]

Whew!!! I was getting nervous!! I was beginning to think I was the last guy left alive from the Outer Limits old flick!!!! Thanks, I'll join Ya!!!!

[2railjon]

This evening I think I shall become a veritable cornucopia of beer. Then I will don my Superman outfit and chase my wife around in the front yard to the amazment of my neighbors. I love Friday's.

[P&R Pete]

The redhead says she has a ten-dollar bill, to see you in red tights.
Gotta be front AND back views.

(Something, I don't know why, makes me doubt your neighbors are going to be surprised at all )

[P&R Pete]

Yeah, I love fridays, too. Especially vacation-fridays.
Why, just this morning, in a nice surprise, I woke up to find that the redhead had put tulips on my organ.

Barkeep! Another round!

[2railjon]

LOL, Pete! Tell the redhead to put that ten dollars towards getting the TV adjusted. Superman's tights are blue!!!!!
Sure, I'll have another!!!!!

[P&R Pete]

Oh, no you don't, Jonny.
She's talking about the part of the tights that count!

[Tramp]

I raise my glass to the lot of you. I drink. Damn it's good to have friends.


What an evening here. Sometimes true joy is okay. Know what I mean?

[2railjon]

This is indeed a wonderful evening. Cheers.

[San Diegan]

Salubrious, indeed.

San

[2railjon]

Hey San, I figured you would arrive late as usual, so I had the barkeep put you back one of those Endless Summer Brews. Cheers!!

After the bubbles, maybe chase some firefies!!

[San Diegan]

Thank you, Jon. It's delicously cool and going down nice and easy. The bubbles image is a keeper.

San

[Tramp]

Jon, what a lovely image. Makes me believe in everything good.

[P&R Pete]

A good day indeed.

Western sky has turned from orange to rose to violet, and the kids are STILL out wallowing in the water-hole.

Aaron, out meandering the fields on his dirt bike, alerted us that the neighbor was baling his hay. We all piled into the car to go sit on the edge of his field and watch.

What a sublime time, haying season. Seas of green waving grass turned to golden windrows in the summer sun and heat, with a bouquet known by every red barn that ever was.

Then this freight-train comes clanking onto the scene, grumbling-tractor, baler, wooden hay-wagon. It's the baler you get stuck on, though, this clanking, grinding, rattling Rube-Goldberg contraption of tin, chains, pulleys, and belts, grabbing-up the hay, stuffing and cutting it, wrapping it with twine, (a machine that ties KNOTS! that's Magic going on in there), moving it by increment down the chute, then suddenly, flings it into the hay wagon in an arc so perfect it hurts your eye, like a Yankee Stadium walk-off homer by the Babe in the bottom of the ninth.

I guess it's so sweet because it comes and goes so quickly.

Yes, Tramp, it IS good to have good friends, and true joy comes in different ways, but it is definitely OK. And friend, I'm guessing you are due some back wages. It fills my old tin cup to know that you have it on this night.