Driving home this evening from an emergency shorts-purchasing expedition, Steve was recounting some tale or other from his day when his voice got all raspy.
"Excuse me," he coughed, "I seem to have a horse in my throat."
I raised an eyebrow.
"No, no," he corrected himself, "A frog. Two frogs. Many frogs."
"English is a hard language, isn't it?" I said, sympathetically.
"Hey, I've got a horse right here," he said and pointed suggestively at his pants.
"I don't understand. You have a horse's ass? You ARE a horse's ass?"
"Hung!" he started. "I am hung..."
"OH! Right," I nodded, "anywhere you hang your horse is home. Home is where the horse is hung. Hang 'em high by... "
"OFF!" Patrick shouted from the back seat.
So that's where it ended. But I was on a roll.