|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Mom, why did you and Dad move to the desert? | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Well, son. You can't beat the housing prices out here. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| That's because no one wants to live here. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Not true. Bob Hope lives here. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Mom! It's a hundred and fourteen degrees out here. And Bob Hope is dead. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Well then, who was that old geezer that hit your father with a golf club at the liquor store the other day when he took the last bottle of tequila? | |
 | |  |
|
|
|