My das was telling me why he quit drinking.

He was talking to his grandfather and they were both huge hunters.
A conversation arose about ticks, and how they would always affect the game they caught, how they were "fuckin' blood sacs of the devil".
A light turns on and my dad turns around abruptly and sees his mother standing there in a white gown.

"Who and what the fuck are you talking about"?

"Geandfather! Talkin' about ticks!

Tick talk!"

My grandmother shakes her head and with a blank expression says

"Carl that a fucking clock."

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