Hope you didn't think I was finished with my Hickisms yesterday. He was on a roll, giving me a two-fer Friday. Not only did he declare that poison and sugar-water are virtually identical, he enlightened the family on one of his new reality TV shows.
We were on our way home from Genius's Last Supper at a local steakhouse. Hick was devil-may-caringly sweaving us down the divided highway while T-Hoe died a little bit inside. We blobbed lethargically in our black leather seats, digesting meat and potatoes and salad and rolls. The Pony sat pecking on his laptop. Genius was directly behind me, but I assumed he was listening to music on his phone. Hick finished sneezing 14 times in a row, then waxed philosophic while waving his free, non-driving arm. One of his favorite topics lately has been the grisly discovery of a body in a septic tank in outer Backroads, and the recent break in the case that led to an arrest.
"I seen on my show the other night that they waited two years to get one of those mob guys. They filterpated his group until they had enough information to arrest him."
The first snort came from The Pony. I did not even think he was listening. Then Genius chortled and said, "I think you mean infiltrated. Not filterpated. They infiltrated the mob." He's a helpful guy, that Genius. Like a walking thesaurus with an autocorrect feature. I, on the other hand, groped for my purse to grab a pen and tiny spiral notebook to jot down the infraction.
Saturday morning, Hick denied his filterpated faux pas. His protests fell on deaf ears. Two boys and one notebook can't be wrong.