Grammy gotted all dillied up for to look for a job today, but she comed home madder an a three-legged goat covered in horseflies. That bald-headed people-breath ole man at Freeder's Breeders tole me I's too ole for puppy-makin', she sayed. So I tole that so an so what's what. I sayed I hasn't never seen Freeder's Breeders in no Book A Who's Who; so when you bees runnin' willy nilly hither an tither lookin' for a bitch with a little somethin' somethin'; don't you be barkin' on my tree. And I ain't whisperin' pixie, neither. I tole Grammy Bob what she maked me proud. I sayed she gots a fur-lined tongue. Then Grammy sayed, George, go axe your Momma if she gots any gin.