Mr. Bunny’s calls would come.
Oh yeah, for sure, they would come.
More often a Monday. On Big Monday.
”You watchin’ this incredible game?”
I would prevaricate. Or, out and out lie.
”Uh, what game?” or “It’s on but I haven’t been paying attention, I’ve been paying bills.” or “No, who’s playing?”
It would be maybe ‘Cuse versus Providence, and the Friars actually had a dude named God playing point guard.
So, as if it were an Abbot and Costello routine we played out time and again, I’d bellow into the phone, “I hate the Big East.