Well, the wife took him, and accompanied him to his annual boy's club fishing expedition. Last year, he caught two sweet trout. This year? Bupkis. Nobody caught nuthin. They were 'bank fishing' as opposed to fishing from a boat last year.
I gave John a good and proper mocking. I was looking forward to fish. But a scad of spastic ten-year-olds, dancing around on the bank, is not conducive to fish catching. Plus, the only damn fish you get at the bank are Perch, the niggers of the Fish World. Trout hang out in more respectable, deeper waters. They require boats before they will allow you to skewer and gut them.
The wife and Johnny rose early, and left at 7:30am. She just woke from about a three hour nap. I had told her to go lay (lie?) down, and shortly, consciousness left the room. I was getting ready to go in and check her pulse.
Well, Happy Saturday! I hear every day above ground is a good one, though I am skeptical of that.
I think I will miss picking my nose most of all.