Driving south on Minnesota Highway 371, headed home. I look into Bernie’s ear from the passenger seat. “You’ve got a gookie in your ear,” I say.
“Yes, a gookie.”
He puts his index finger in his ear to dig the gookie out. I look again. “The gookie’s gone,” I say.
Bernie looks at his finger, finds it empty. “I guess I must have pushed it in further.”
He puts his finger in the other ear and looks at it. “Here it is,” he says.