We got to the door of McDonalds and I tried to let Fish down, but he clung on by tightening his arms around my neck and chest and squeezing his thighs against either side of my rib cage.
“Easy! You’re going to squeeze the air out of me.” I complained.
“Giddy up horsy!” he said as BB opened the door for us.
Larry spanked my bottom and said, “Move it mule.”
I wondered if he heard and understood what was obvious to me as a deep thump and not a high-pitched slap of flesh against flesh.
There was a round faced African-American lady behind the counter who frowned at me for carrying Fish in like that, but we ignored her scowl. Actually, Bertha seemed to think it was more than a little funny. She was grinning more than I think I have ever seen her do.
