Uncle Lou settles next to you with a jar of olives, a jar of pickled eggs, and a half full sleeve of saltine crackers.
"This place is becoming a ghost town. Pretty soon we'll see tumble sauce in here," Uncle Lou says as he munches on a fistful of crackers.
"Do you mean tumble weeds? Or tumblesault?"
"What did I say?" he asks with his eye brows raised and a look of confusion.
"You said tumble sauce, like something you pour on pasta."
"No, I mean those bushy things that roll on the ground in the Old West. Tumble salts."
Having no energy to correct the man, you continue your meal.
"Let's go outside. I want to talk and do some hunting. Kinda."