A Group of Hobos

While driving with my dad we had this silly conversation. If you're a bit confused after reading the title above this post, I understand how you feel. I was confused too.

Dad: *Laugh* Look at that group of hobos!

Me: What? Hobos? Where?

Dad: In that flowerbed across the street.

Me: Oh. Those are called scarecrows, Dad.

Dad: Oops, I told you that I was tired tonight.

This is how inside jokes are made. If you ever see a scarecrow with my dad I give you permission to call it a hobo. After this night, I feel the need to do it all the time.