# 100

Tucker:  ::singing::  Oye ¿Como Va?
mr_ed:  Hey, it's Santana Sibe!
Tucker:  It's too early for Santa.
mr_ed:  Na. Santana. Na, na, na.
Tucker:  Sha Na Na. Rock and roll is here to stay.
mr_ed:  Yeah, and we're on our way to Woodstock. Anyhow, this is blog #100, and it came super-fast thanks to all those posts during Blogathon.
Tucker:  Where are we going?
mr_ed:  We're going to bed soon. It's getting awfully late....
Tucker:  It's too late baby, yeah it's too late.
mr_ed:  ... and I was in the middle of writing something that was turning out to be kind of long....
Tucker:  My baby wrote me a letter.
mr_ed:  Stick a cork in it!
Tucker:  Gimme a treat.
mr_ed:  No.
Tucker:  I'm leavin' on a jet plane.
mr_ed:  Ha.
Tucker:  Country roads, take me home.
mr_ed:  Misty taste of moonshine? You a little bit Rocky Mountain high? Took a trip and never left the farm?
Tucker:  You said we were going somewhere. Where the woods talk.
mr_ed:  That sounds scary.
Tucker:  Like the Ents, maybe. But I don't know any Ent songs.
mr_ed:  Got no time to for spreadin roots,
Tucker:  The time has come to be gone.
mr_ed:  And though our health we drank a thousand times,
Tucker:  It's time to ramble on.
mr_ed:  G'night. And good luck with Gollum in your dreams!