This church picnic ain't no picnic./You're my fried chicken./ Holy finger-lickin'..."
Savannah yelled at him over the music. "Are you callin' me a piece a fried chicken?"
"Nah. Not you, Slush Queen. Never." He closed his eyes and pounded out the drums on the dashboard of the Beater. As I got out of the car, I felt sorrier for Link than ever.
