"Oh," he says, looking over my shoulder, "Do you think I'd be a good lawman?"
"No," I say.
"No?" he asks incredulously.
"Well, for one thing, you don't know how shoot a gun." How the man can live in Florida and not know how to handle firearms is beyond me. "And second, you're too kind hearted to kill anything." I mean, he was feeling bad because I put rat bait out as the rats were getting out of hand.
"And thirdly, I don't think you've ever been on a horse in your life."
"A steel horse," he offers. Naw, not the same thing.