"Ya'know, Leon, every country has its share of wind-bags," Chester drawled.
"Think so?" his friend replied. They sat, as usual, on the veranda, gazing across the prairie. Coloured balloons were tied to a nearby fence.
Chester nodded. "I know so. I blame glo-bal warm-ing." Again, the words were dragged out. "The heat pumps up the air in these Wash-ing-ton po-lit-icians. Like those balloons on that fence."
"Got any ideas?" Leon asked.
Chester picked up his rifle and blew off a red and a blue balloon.
"Yup," he said.
Leon nodded, "Yup."
Tomorrow, they'd repeat the conversation, shoot more coloured balloons.
"Think so?" his friend replied. They sat, as usual, on the veranda, gazing across the prairie. Coloured balloons were tied to a nearby fence.
Chester nodded. "I know so. I blame glo-bal warm-ing." Again, the words were dragged out. "The heat pumps up the air in these Wash-ing-ton po-lit-icians. Like those balloons on that fence."
"Got any ideas?" Leon asked.
Chester picked up his rifle and blew off a red and a blue balloon.
"Yup," he said.
Leon nodded, "Yup."
Tomorrow, they'd repeat the conversation, shoot more coloured balloons.
