Which reminds of something that happened at Christmas tree farm. One day I noticed Canada staring at a huge snow covered roof, a look of wistful satisfaction on his face. "I'm going to draw a huge penis on that," he said, grabbed a very long plank, scurried outside, climbed up on a stack of pallets next to the roof, and did so.
About an hour later I saw Tall Posh Boy darting outside with a very long plank, looking furtive. He slouched back into shed about thirty seconds later, downcast, head hanging. "I was going to draw a huge penis on that roof," he said, "but [Short Posh Boy] has already done it."
"Wasn't Short Posh Boy," I said.
"Oh," he replied, even more upset.
Cheers, B.
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