Upon cursory visual inspection, Bobby appeared to be suited up. Undeniably so. I felt compelled to pop the big question.
"Whatcha suited up for there, Bobby?" I inquired, voice aquiver.
Everyone was wondering it, but I was the only one be-huevoed enough to ask--though admittedly at the expense of some bladder control.
Rather than replying to me, Bobby began to play his "it-is-impossible-for-me-to-respond-to-you-by-virtue-of-the-fact-that-I-have-no-senses" game. Typical.
Bobby was easily the third worst ear, nose and throat doctor I have ever had. --Jawn Steighmeaus
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