My Old Bush

Yesterday, I went with my friends Dustin and Veronica to visit Dustin’s parents’ land in Dodgeville. Everything was beautiful—the air, the country, their hospitality, etc. Perhaps most beautiful of all, however, was the amount of innuendo.

First, my friend Veronica keeps talking about how much she loves to toss salad, but not with tools. Oh, no. She likes to get in there and really get her hands dirty.

Second, Dustin’s grandma, talking about her garden, waxes on about how her old bush is really thick this year. While imagining this, please keep in mind that she wasn’t saying THE old bush, but kept saying “MY old bush.” And she keeps repeating it over and over again.

Finally, over dessert, there is a big conversation about pie, providing lots of material for my internal eleven-year-old boy. The cherry on top of the immature cake was when Dustin’s dad, shaking his head, says, “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a runny pie.”