Seems to me, Goode Rapaire, that Momme is lucky to have to strapping young loudmouths like ourselves to help her along, and there is no need for either of us to invent whole-cloth fictitious slurs about the other.

I never told Mom about you and the Great Dane; I was a gentleman about helping you clean up after that "bachelor stag party" thing, and sneak your befouled dress shirt into the laundry when Mom wasn't looking. I never mentioned a word to her about the time Sally Leonski missed her period for two weeks and how scared you were. And who smuggled Patty Wallworth's bra out of your bedroom for you when Mom was coming in to make the bed?


So gimme a break here, bro.


A