We kidnapped him, in dire need of a proficient walking cane craftsman; he was all talk about books and watch a lip-sync to Ron Paul (my mouth hurts from laughter). He didn’t know I was a paparazzi, secretly snapping photos, until the end, but showed his inhibitions from the beginning.
“Huh? I’m not getting in there with him!” he said upon discovering me in the back seat. Don’t ask how we smuggled him in and out Brien’s little BMW. We are masters.
Watch for that smile. You may well catch something.
