Driving home from the pool this evening, F busts out from the back of the van, "I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juke box baby!"
Sitting next to him, G sings, "I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juice box baby!"
S, squeaks from his middle row seat, sitting all alone, "I love rock and roll, apple juice, chocolate milk!"
Rock and Roll is dead.
We killed it.