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Feeling his oats
A phone call from Mike O'Farrell to Jimmy Phillips, a buddy from Deerfield Academy who lives not far from the O'Farrells, August 22, 1933.
JIMMY: Hello?
MIKE: Hi, Jimmy. It's Mike. How are ya?
JIMMY: Fine. So, what's the story?
MIKE: We're all set. I talked to Pete, and he's in.
JIMMY: Swell. And the girls?
MIKE: (laughing) Without the girls, would I have said "we're all set?"
JIMMY: (laughing, too) Good point. I think you'll be pleased with what I'm providing this evening...
MIKE: Oh? Tell me more...
JIMMY: Let's just say I don't think my old man will miss a bottle of Scotch. He has enough of them.
MIKE: Great job. Pete told me he's got the beer. This will be one hell of a party, my friend!
JIMMY: You said it. Drinks and girls...does it get better than that?
MIKE: It might be the last bash before it's off to hit the books, too. We better make it a good one...
JIMMY: Listen, I think my sister's around here somewhere. I better let you go here.
MIKE: Yeah. You know how usually is at my house. Today they're all at the ballpark, though.
JIMMY: There are all kinds of things that are good about your dad being a big shot with the Red Sox! (laughing)
MIKE: (laughing too) Shut up. I'll see you about 8, right?
JIMMY: Right. Bye.
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