Cooper Green

Explanations that I am rehearsing, just in case the conversation goes in that direction.

• There's a great story behind my overbite. You'll love this. Back in the day, when all flashlights carried four 'D' batteries and they were uniformly heavy and awkward, I used to need one when I took my bulldog - Chiclet - on her nightly poopwalk, so I could pick up her mess afterward. Well. One winter, when it was absolutely pitch black by 4 o'clock every day, she came down with Projectile Diarrhea. It lasted six weeks, and was terribly hard to clean up. So I developed a system. Here's how it worked: I would put the flashlight in my mouth, and hang on to Chiclet's leash with my left hand. Then, with my right ...

• I'm glad you asked about that particular scratch on my fender, because even though it looks quite minor, it represents one of the most terrifying events I've been unfortunate enough to have been involved with in years. Let me just say these four words: drunk gardener wielding a rake. I'm not counting indefinite articles. I'm sure you can see how that very scene portends a dire occurrence with grave consequences, and I count myself as fortunate beyond words that this brutal scar was inflicted on my car rather than on one of my vital organs, had the window been down and the car not moving, and if he hadn't been lying down. It was just an ordinary Tuesday and I was driving south on Westchapel Crescent ...

• I see you have some photographs of your family in your wallet ... that's okay, I don't need to see them. I'm sure your kids are great. But I must tell you something that will really give you pause. Do you know that I still carry the picture that came with my wallet when I bought it? There it is, right there. Still in its original window. She's lovely, isn't she? I thought she had the most winning smile, so I wrote to Buxton, the wallet people, and told them exactly which wallet design I had purchased, when and where I bought it, the colour and so forth, so that there could be no mistaking whose picture that might be. Her name's Wendy. They wouldn't give me her address, but Google is a wonderful thing ...

• Do you mean the Buford Stinkberry who works in the funeral home? That Buford Stinkberry? Well I can tell you a few stories about Mister Stinkberry that will curl your hair if you don't mind having your ears scorched. I simply don't understand why he is that way, because he comes from a nice Protestant family, although they're working class. Now I'm not prejudiced in any way, but there was this particular funeral at the home, and one of the family was a young lady, rather attractive for a brown person. I wouldn't say black because she didn't seem athletic. Maybe a sort of dusky Filipino now that I think of it, because she was always tending to things ...

• My, that's a very noticeable mole pattern you have on your cheek. Quite large, really. Birth defect? It's a little like mine, which is in my armpit rather than on my cheek, and I would show it to you if the lighting were a little better. Let's step over to the breakfast nook, there's lots of light there. You'll get a kick out of this, because it looks a bit like an armadillo ...