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My father was very good with humorous language. He was the center of a group of men, working men, and he would go hang out sometimes at his son-in-law's--Eddie was actually his best friend at the time--gas station.
He'd sit in the tiny back room of the gas station, and guys would come by for gas, but stop in, cuz Harry was there, and have a few beers.
I remember a time, at the gas station, him and 3 or 4 guys, and a rather spectacularly attractive woman was getting her car filled up with gas, and all the guys were pretty much agape.
And she left. No wolf-whistles, or any of that shit. She just got her gas and drove off.
And the guys are all sitting there.
And he says, "Well. You know. If you *like* that sort of thing."
I watched these grown-up men just fucking *fall* *out* laughing.
My mom and dad were divorced when I was just five years old, and I lived with her, and I saw him only every six weeks or so, until I was about 13.
That was when he discovered me.
I was "smart", and articulate, and obstreperous and argumentative, and that was what he most valued in his companions, and I became one of them.
My father *loved* a good argument.
So, late spring to late fall, he would pick me up and we'd go fishing or hunting. "Fishing", that is, or "hunting".
Mostly what we did was camp somewhere and drink and play chess and verbally spar.
He'd pick me up at the house, and we'd head out of town, but stop athe liquor store for supplies, typically at case or two of PBR and a fifth of Canadian Mist. (Elbows up, my Canadian friends, even tho I later learned it was a pretty shitty cheap whiskey.)
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A thing I always admired, the way he reacted to a woman he was attracted to. His face just *morphed* into a face of utter delight.
He wouldn't say a thing. But his face would just *light* *up*, and the person in question just knew. I saw him flirt many times, and it always started with that face.