“Steve” had to go. He started hitting on my wife, was always slapping her rear-end. He started saying uncool things; a lot of swearing. A lot about how Chevy ought to bring back the Chevet and Ford the Ranchero. A lot about how all the hot girls in high school took wood shop. He was always saying my speakers were too small, my pants too baggy and politics too liberal.
All he wanted to do was drink cheap beer and break things in the backyard.
He was getting out of hand. So I got rid of “Steve”. Kicked him out.
Then I got this nasty-ass cold.
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An ode to Steve:
Oh Steve, I miss you.
That case of Milwaukees Best light,
On that midsummers night,
We chained our trucks,
and bet some bucks.
You said Ford! I said Chevy!
Then we put it to the levy.
You pulled me out,
and with a great shout,
said don't ever mess with my 150!
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