The Fruits of My Labor

"Who'd-a-thunk it" commented the 'egotistical idiot' chomping on his half pound super burger at the post match repast. "You've got some pair of onions to gloat over that second set (7-5) come from behind victory. You know damn well I hurt my right arm midway through that final set" countered Rob 'Jersey Bomber' Briscoe. "Don't bullshit me, 'naughty nephew' I played ketchup from the first game in that set and you couldn't cut the mustard when you had the chance to close me out at 4-5 in games like you did in the first set (4-6). Admit it, you relish, beating your Godfather" rejoined the TennisTitan. "My first serve was bleu cheese right by you as I undressed your weaknesses until I hurt my forearm" 'unctuous uncle." "Rob, remember when you play someone with my experience, it's never 'the fries the limit. You must always have something in reserve and not play like 'there's no tomato.' You'll be bacon me to come down to Monmouth County again very soon. Lettuce hope that my injured calf and your forearm heal quickly."