The wife has a (kind of) real job, so she outranks me, so I gotta go down and do the dishes. The house is empty and quiet, because she forgot to stop by McD's and pick us up pies (mass craving going on, here) and I just ran out of whiskey.
The kids' church group is having one of those little wooden car races, and time trials were last night. Johnny and Nat had the fastest cars in the place. Not the prettiest. The fastest.
We let them do all the work on them they could handle, and their four-wheel turds (Nat's is hot pink, John's is orange. Defiantly so...) kicked the older bigger boys asses, where the Dads had milled vital parts on their lathes. Parts on the car. It's hard to mill an actual child, what with all of the screaming and drama.
So, I almost died recently, and for the first time in my life I have to hide my drinking, because the wife blames it, even though the doctor is becoming more sure that the blood pressure med the intern prescribed me is the culprit. Though he'll never say so. And will lie if subpoenaed.
You can't wire a house legally without passing certain tests and milestones in your training, but you can scribble out a scrip for poison, and get someone to take it, because you have silky brown eyes and you fondled his balls and stuck your finger up his ass.
So...they're back. WHERE'S MY PIE!!!