...ode. Curse my inability to not use him as much as properly possible! I don't own the rights to Band-Aids. Enjoy the insanity!
The sun beat down onto Arlen, Texas unmercifully. Its searing rays attacked all that is surveyed, and those standing outside the Hill residence were no exception.
Hank Hill took a sip of cold, refreshing beer and looked up at the sky.
Yup, he commented, it sure is a scorcher today.
Scorcher? Dale Gribble repeated skeptically, Hank, this is not scorching. This is suffocating! My diaphragm spasms as we speak, though I am refusing to acknowledge it. He sipped his beer, then hiccupped.
Yeah, I been breathin kinda funny fer a while now. chipped in Bill Douterive, Didnt want to say nothin in case it were just me though.
Boomhauer merely nodded and wiped his brow with his beer can.
Oh, come on guys, its not that bad out. Hank insisted, then asked incredulously, Bobby, what in the heckre you doin?
Hanks son, Bobby, has just crawled flat on his stomach around the edge of the fence surrounding the Hills yard. He halted at his dads ankles and flopped onto his side.
Its too hot to stand up. Bobby groaned, Dad, we gotta go to the beach..