I wander into this bar and encounter Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul herself.
She’s lookin’ good, having lost weight and shed a coupla decades.
I say, “Aretha! What are you doin’ here?”
She says, “Oh, just comin’ round”.
In front of her on the bar is a 6-pack of Schlitz cans, one of which she has cracked; and a coupla others loose of the plastic rings.
“So, how’s your heavenly home?” I ask.
“It’s alright”, in a meh kind of tone, responds.
“We drink bong juice. And I have a young pretty girlfriend. It’s kinda gay up there.”
“Sounds alright.”
It's a Rudy Thing 