Years ago, when Foxes Earth was simply the farm and we lived in the Metro area, we made frequent tedious four-hour trips by car with pre-adolescent males in the back seat. This was before the days of hand-held electronic games. They entertained themselves using only their imaginations.
Their most spectacular game had no name. They invented two imaginary characters, named Mat-tel and his brother Hasbro . Everything seen along the road had a connection with Mat-tel and Hasbro.
"That's Mattel's grandmother's house."
"That's Hasbro's dog." A running commentary on the dog lasted until they saw: "There's Hasbro's Uncle Arthur and Aunt Minnie on that porch."
"There's the feed store where Mattel's daddy buys feed for his chickens."
The longer we stayed in the car, the more outrageous the stories became. A group of people on the side of the road meant a long string of names were invented. The country nightclub we passed invited many inventions of what went on there and who got stabbed.
It was a much better game than the brief one-sided episodes where Daddy Junior whispered in his younger brother's ear and the Monkeyman erupted into uncontrolled giggles and gasped, "Mama, make him stop saying weinie," The quick response from his brother was "Weinie-weinie-weinie," causing more hysterical laughter.
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