Goober Jr. lives in a farmhouse well (other kind of well, as in ‘very’, no pun intended) outside any city limits. Does he plumb the depths of sweet, fresh water from the well dug by someone’s grandfather in the late 1800s? No, he draws his from the toilet in imperial gallon quantities. He assures me that boiled toilet water is an acquired taste. (Frankly I don’t trust him. His teeth are all black and his breath smells like a zombie).
Possibly, by now dear reader, you have surmised my suggestion. Wells. I want to dig one. Goober Jr. is standing by with his shovel, hoe, wood saw, wood axe, integrated toolset, welder, pile of metal bits, and hundreds of other various farm bits (chain! … don’t forget chain … farmers will pull over while driving to their own wedding to pick up a length of chain just laying by the road).
Hopefully fresh well water will clear up Goober Juniors’ dental and halitosis problems. Heck, it might even help with his acne, but it is hard to predict considering just how much Adderall he carries in his fanny pack…