“Nothing man, is just… my son and I are playing cowboys and indians, and we don’t have someone to to play the prisoner of war, you would it, you would make my son happy!”
 
uncle Larry: “Umh, ok boy! I like to make a child happy!”
 
“Really, oh thank you, thank you so much man! Tell me, are your soles sensitive enough?”
 
uncle Larry: “Well, despite appearances, I am very ticklish down there, and it’s better that I don’t walk barefoot on the asphalt when it overheats, but why are you asking me?”
 
“curiosity, just curiosity!”
 
In less than a few minutes, uncle Larry was securely tied to a pole, with a bunch of dry branches under his scalie big bare feet; while a little boy danced around him dressed as an Indian brave, and his father was preparing to light that pile of dry wood in order to roast his helpless soles simulating an Indian torture, to sadistically entertain that pestiferous brat.