Poppa Needs Shorts
At the moment, Sven was busily probing into an open chassis with a hot soldering iron.
"Short's in here some place," he muttered.
"What makes shorts, Sven?" Oley wasn't so knowledgeable but what he would ask an occasional question.
Sven turned and glared down. "What are you doing in here? You know it's a Federal Offense for anybody to come into this room without I say so?"
"Momma and Hilda come in all the time, and you don't say so." Oley stood firm on what he figured were legal grounds. "What makes shorts?"
Sven relented a little. This brother had been something of a surprise to him, coming along when Sven was a full ten years old. But, he reflected, after a few years maybe I should get used to the idea. Actually, he sort of liked the youngster.
"Shorts," he said