“According to my calculations, if we sold more than ten,” the Weener starts.
“The Number of his fingers,” Twistine whispers.
“Then we would more than replenish the liquidity difficulty,” the Weenerman confers, “And have enough to buy murky pop for years to come.”
“Which might also cover his years to graduate,” Twistine can’t help herself.
“And so I had the Ernie place a starter order for one case,” the Weener announces, “And then I sent the Sales Team out.”
“That was me driving the Buck Truck around because it had gas in it,” I remark.
“You’ve got to burn gas to make cash,” HM exptulates.
“And Ernie sitting in the bed telling everyone about the latest novelty fad,” I continue, “And the Weenerman here riding shotgun and taking in the dough.”
“Wow,” KidBro says, “What enteprenourship.”
“He even sold a couple,” Twistine remarks dryly.
“A couple?” the Weener replies with a note of offence, “We sold a couple of cases I’ll have you all know.”
“And that’s when the fun began,” Twistine puts in.