I’m waiting here, at the start, where the third Thumper is. When it activates, I go north 5 miles. If it doesn’t activate, I start blaring the E.A.R.A.C.H.E., and I become the third Thumper.
Well, we: Lemmy and I. As it’s highly inadvisable that we send a zombie on that rocket, no matter how genteel and British he may be, Lemmy has asked for a ride up to `Frisco to check in on the Fillmore to see whether there are other rockers that manage to stay cool as zombies.
Assuming the 3rd thumper starts when it should - just as its 20 minute ticker starts expiring, we fire up the E.A.R.A.C.H.E. and drive north at 25MPH. Hopefully, the worms will chase for a bit, giving you all maybe about another 5-10 minutes.
NO. What the boy NEEDS is a GOD-DAMNED HAIRCUT. Has needed it for what seems like the better part of a year.
Look, kid. You’re growing up alright, and you’ve a great mother. Probably the best mom left on Earth. But, you see, sometimes a parent can love a child so much, too much, they spoil the kid. Protect someone a bit too much from life and they forget this whole drive is a scrape from one refill to the next. A spoiled person starts to take things for granted, like toppings on pizza.
Back before the war, there were these people called “helicopter parents,” who would hover over their children, and protect them from learning the hard knocks of life. Well, your mom is not just a helicopter parent - she’s a goddamned Rocket Parent.
It’s fine, she’s loves you more than anything, but you still need to learn the hard lessons of life. I’m not much of a teacher, but I do know that no man should go around with an unruly rats nest for a head.
Here: Hold still.
There. Now with an Ape Drape like that, you will be slaying those little lamplighter gals all the way to Mars.
Hey, what are you all looking at? Just because this is goodbye doesn’t mean this is the end of the road.
We still have Drivin’ to do.
