Most residents of a small Georgia town I lived in briefly know Jerome. He lives on a moored Catalina 22 just outside of the marina. Jerome loves to plant flowers. Wildflowers. He planted them everywhere. Alongside roads, in a median, anywhere and everywhere.
Sammy was travelling down a road in this town and there was Jerome on a bulldozer. He somehow got his hands on it and he was bulldozing a place to plant flowers. Sammy stopped him.
"Jerome? Is this your land?" asked Sammy.
"No," said Jerome. "Is it yours?"
Sammy just laughed and said "Well, Jerome, I have to admit, you've got me there."
Sammy went on his way and Jerome kept bulldozing.
Now, I know southerners like to tell tales and all... but I just have a hunch that there is some basis in truth here. Or maybe, Sammy just got a yankee real good.
Sammy was travelling down a road in this town and there was Jerome on a bulldozer. He somehow got his hands on it and he was bulldozing a place to plant flowers. Sammy stopped him.
"Jerome? Is this your land?" asked Sammy.
"No," said Jerome. "Is it yours?"
Sammy just laughed and said "Well, Jerome, I have to admit, you've got me there."
Sammy went on his way and Jerome kept bulldozing.
Now, I know southerners like to tell tales and all... but I just have a hunch that there is some basis in truth here. Or maybe, Sammy just got a yankee real good.
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