“What’s up, Big Daddy?” I point the crumbling chicken toward the TV. “Did you come to watch The View with me?” He glances at the TV, pure disgust on his face. “Don’t like this show?” I lean forward, dunking the chicken strip into the flood of BBQ squirted onto the paper bag. “Is it Joy?” I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Or do you miss Babs? Probably helps to have someone your age on the show, huh?”
