If you think that your foot massage will really help I’m willing to try it. But first what is your name young man? I refuse to demean you by calling...you slave.” Jill asked.“He’s my slave...” Elsa started before Jill cut her off.“You gave me his services bitch! As long as he’s mine he’ll have a name.” Jill raised her voice at Elsa, and the other two old ladies added their “here, here” to her rant.“Have it your way Jill, his name is Eddie, or Edward, or Ed, I forget, what was it slave?” Elsa. ’ ‘How about what to have for dessert first. My treat. I did tell one of the EMTs to tell you I had to go. He didn’t pass the word on?’ ‘No, no one told me you checked out that day.’ ‘Sorry, then. Really my bad for not contacting you before now. Will buying you two desserts make up for that? They serve them good here.’ ‘In that case, the blueberry cobbler and a cup of coffee.’ She couldn’t help but give a little laugh at howneatly he had segued into that. ‘Same for me, Donna,’ he said to the. One good thing about being a short guy, back trouble was less of a problem for me when it came to doing the heavy lifting. Tall guys always ended up having back trouble: nature’s way of evening the playing field, I guess: The tall guys got the girls in high school but ended up with the bad backs after they married the cheerleaders, who then ended up having to take care of their asses, and then cheating on them in the end. One had to love mother nature.Regardless of anything else, however, I was. "I thought this was the SEC Championship game." No, Doofus, you already lost that one," he said. "You're not even supposed to be here. You're supposed to be working on the 'D' drills."I laughed at him, and his face turned red. "Dude, our defensive unit doesn't need work on defense," I said. "We need work on this side of the ball."I didn't think he understood the thought process behind such a difficult concept, but he blustered on."Yeah, well, if you assholes are so great, how come you got blown.