“I was Johnny,” Casey yelled from behind the cabin after I yelled to ask. “He’s a bear.”
Johnny: Am I a bear?
Eli: A sexy lumberjack bear of love.
The deer had Casey momentarily stymied. Either that, or he was having a heart attack, bent at the waist, hands on knees, gasping.
“You okay?”
He gave me a thumb up in response, then formed both hands into antlers, making him an upright buck in saggy designer tighty whities no longer tight or white. The piece de resistance was his breathless warbling. Though technically Frozen’s Sven had help with his vocals from Kristoff when singing about reindeers being better than people, Casey’s imitation earned Jamal’s approval.
“Three to go.”
“Oh, f**k!” Casey staggered off.
Johnny: And after turtles, it’s what sound do deer make.
Eli: Done. There
