Gary speaks well when you get him going. Bring up Trump, he can rattle on in pentameter for an hour without pausing for breath.
In fact, he did that last night, not quite for an hour but for at least twenty minutes, when I interrupted him to ask, “Did you eat anything today?”
Indignant. “You interrupted me! Let me finish my thought!”
”Sorry, but you weren’t winding down, and I was thinking about dinner.”
He said, ”I had …” (waving hand at refrigerator) “one of those round bowl-y things.”
Gary got more annoyed, threw his hands up in the air. “Bowl! White round bowl-y thingy!”
All he’s eaten of late, in a white bowl or not, are salads made of 25% dressing, feta cheese, and croutons, and chicken, and scraps of lettuce.
I said, “A saaaa … llaaaad?” I am afraid I pronounced it just that way, slowly, two distinct syllables.
”Yes! A saaaaaaaa … lllaaaaad,” he hissed, and then I laughed for a good long time. He laughed too. Eventually.