Mixed Nuts

 Charlton

“So I told them, ‘You can have my gun when you can pry it from my cold, dead hand.’”

Ted

“That’s what I told the bastards about CNN, but they took it anyway.” 

Charlton

“Damned dirty apes.”

Ted

“Exactly!  Though I think they were something less than sub-primate.  Say, Chuck, can I call you Chuck?”

Charlton

“That’s not my name, but you can call me whatever you like, Ted.”

Ted

“You betcha, Benji Hur it is, feel my calf muscle.  My right one, though, my left one got chewed up in a thresher race when I was 14.  I won the race, by the way.  Taught my cousin a lesson in how to cherry shift a 3.5 ton wheat eater.  He died of his injuries but that wheat came in, by God!  Go ahead, feel my calf!”

Charlton

“You want me to feel your calf?”

Ted

“Settle down, Moses, it isn’t golden.”

Charlton

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

Ted

“Fair enough.  You a betting man, Chuckles?”

Charlton

“I’ve been known to roll the dice a time or two.  Why?”

Ted

“Watch me get this young fellar behind ya to feel my calf for twenty bucks.  You, what’s your name?”

Young Michael B.

“Mike, Mr. Turner.”

Ted

“Mike Mister Turner… hey, Turner, that’s my name.  We related or are you from the Tina Turner side?  She’s got great legs.  Speaking of great legs, whataya say you grab mine to score a Jackson?”

Young Michael B.

“Grab… your leg?”

Ted

“See, Chuckles, that’s the problem with these events, they’ve always got the retarded kids mixed in with the regulars to sneak up on you to make you reach for your checkbook.  That’s why I carry hard candy in my pocket.  It’s the crinkley noise that distracts ‘em long enough to escape.”

Charlton

“Very clever.”

Ted

“Go ahead, son, feel my calf.”

Young Michael B.

“Okay.” 

(feeling Ted’s calf)

Young Michael B.

“Is that a gun?”

Ted

“Ha!  He must be one of the high functionals, Chuck.  He’s right, that’s my snubbed nose 38.  Nickel plated, can’t stand tarnish, Chuck.  I thought about getting ivory handles, but my ex wouldn’t let me.  Hippies, Chuck, are no fun.  Don’t trust them, Chuck, no matter how many times you’ve seen a hippie naked, don’t you trust ‘em!”

Charlton

“I never have.”

Ted

“Okay, son, that’s enough.  Here, have a butterscotch.  It helps if you tell ‘em they’re eating gold.  Gives ‘em something to look forward to next time they poop.  Speaking of poop, where’s that gal with the caviar platter?”