A young woman with long hair, wearing an ankle-length skirt and somewhat eccentric combination of patterns, and carrying a sunflower is walking toward me in the company of a neatly coiffed young man, all in black, walking a bicycle. As I pass them I hear:
"Why don't you like Honey-Boo?" she asks plaintively. "What's wrong with Honey-Boo?"
He smiles diplomatically, "Well..."
Let us hope for the sake of the man--to say nothing of the currently nameless creature--that it is a pet and not a child.
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