Lindsay Olives

My son, the olive, gives me such a pain! All my life all I wanted was the best for him, to be a Lindsay olive, a perfect olive! But would he listen to me? Nah. He’s got to act like a big shot all the time. Like when I told him, I said: “Hershey, stay in the sun, the sun is wonderful for you!” But would he listen? No, sir. Like when I caught him hanging around with a bad bunch of olives. I said: “Hershey, get away from them, you don’t need them, you’re a good olive!” Do you think he listened to me? No! So when the Lindsay pickers came, I said: “Yoo hoo, yoo hoo, Mister Lindsay picker! Pick over there my son, the big shot.” Did they pick him? Nah, they don’t want big shots. If he’d listened to me, by now he could have been a Lindsay olive.