How do you make a groan man cry: pay him too much – new tax bracket!
How do you make a hormone: don’t pay her at all!*
- (The later question-response session was held one fine Sunny afternoon at my little brother’s place. His daughter was with us to reprobates chattering and chewing and suchlike. So I turned to Storm and said with an evil glint in all nine of my eyes: How do you make a hormone?”
- Without a batted eye – or nose – he looked first at me and then at his then 20-something daughter: “Don’t pay her.”
- She groaned.
- He gleed.
- I cried – ’tis best to wet the wooden floor before moping it up with your rolling body.
- I had no idea Storm knew the jape or even its translation. And now his daughter has something useful to know from all the terrible other stuff I added to her extra curricula.