Brantley-isms (cuz it’s been a while)

We went for our daily family walk this morning. As it turns out, seven AM is too early for mascara so I improvised in order to become suitable for the public eye.
Giant aviator sunglasses that make me look like a mosquito? Check. Ball cap? Check. Mismatched shorts and shirt (didn’t really help the look, but) check and check.
As we approached the top of a hill, one of our three town police men (That’s right, I said three. Please don’t rob me.) slowly drove past us. Brantley gave me a heads up. “Look out. It’s the po-po.” He whisper shouted.
“Thanks, babe. Are we doing anything wrong?” I asked.
“Well I’m not, but you’re dressed like you’re casing the neighborhood.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“You run kinda gay.”

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