Since our neighbors, Beauregard and Boo Byrd are almost exactly our age, I’m not sure why Dearly Beloved refers to Beau as “that Old Fart.” The two guys–Beau and DB–have been friends for decades, long before we moved into this house, and have a schtick going that they find hilarious.
Beau has a repertoire of about twenty jokes that he tells to DB at the rate of about three a week. By the time he gets back to the first one, DB has forgotten it. In fact, he usually forgets before he comes back in the house to tell me. When he does remember, I recognize it as a rerun.
“She says you’ve already told me that one!” he’ll yell over the fence sometimes.
DB was driving back from an errand this morning when he glanced at the Byrds’ house and saw Beau sitting on an old milk carton in the driveway, leaning forward. Petite Boo was behind him, draped over his back with her hands on his shoulders.
“That Old Fart has hurt himself! ” DB thought, and whipped the car into their driveway to offer assistance.
“Do you need help?” he called. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, HEY!” Beau yelled back jovially. “Everything’s fine. . . .
I’m just trimming Boo’s toenails.”
Sure enough, Boo’s left leg was draped across Beau’s knee. She wrinkled her nose at DB and giggled, “I just hate doing that myself.”
“Seen enough. I’m getting out of here,” Dearly Beloved called to them, throwing the car into reverse.
He came inside, grinning, and shaking his head. “That Old Fart is over there in the driveway, cutting Boo’s toenails.”
Finally! One I hadn’t heard before.