 Well, Earl put down his bottle and mashed his foot down on the throttle. Then a couple of boobs with a thousand cubes and a 1948 Peterbilt screamed alive. We woke up a chance. We roared up off of that shoulder spraying pine cones, rocks, and boulders and put 400 head of them Rhode Island Reds and a couple of burnt-out roosters on the line. Look out below, cause here we go. What the frick, Cas? Way up on the grapevine. What's up?