"Hey, Grandpa. Hey, Uncle Derek." I greeted my older relatives. "Hay's for horses." They both replied.
To other people this may have been rude, but not to me. We had always said that to each other. Even before I was born Grandpa and (Great) Uncle Derek had said that to each other.
"I and your Grandpa were just talking about something that happened to us a long time ago." Uncle Derek said.
"Oh," I asked, "What was that?"
"The stampede." Uncle Derek replied.
"What stampede?" I asked. "Was it a horse one?" I knew that Grandpa and Uncle Derek had at one time owned competition horses, but I'd never heard that something like this had happened before.
"Yep," Uncle Derek said, "It was a horse one. But do you mean to tell me that your Grandpa never told you the story?"
"Nope, I've never heard that story."
"Why that's one of his favorite stories to tell. Tell it to her, Joe."
"I don't think she'll want to hear that story." Grandpa said.
"Yes I do." I told Grandpa.
"Alright." Grandpa said. I sat down on the porch swing, and Grandpa sat back in his rocker to begin the story.