Tim

Cory’s taking off for Mexico with some chick. He says Jill’s not just some chick. I say I don’t care, he’ll barge out searching for local color and end up with a chest full of ammo, picked apart by parrots. The cops will find nada. I thought we’d be through fretting about Cory when he got out on his own. The waitress asks, “Another green tea?” I say my son and I are grabbing a quick bite. He should be here soon.