Kris’s hip is busted. My hip hurts.
“Kris, why you always wearing a giant key ring on your belt and such heavy boots?”
Kris just limps some more. We keep walking. Our trek is from Times Square to a Village bar to meet up with Andrew and Andrew.
We need to take care of one another. Because if his hip hurts, my hip hurts.
“Should we call an Uber?”
“Nah, we are almost there.”
Andrew and Andrew both had long days. We all sit and hip hurt together. Finally, no one is left sober. No one is left with hip hurt.