Yes, amazing I know, but he's only just turning 40 today.
All those careworn creases; the 'no-heavier-burden' look that gives his shoulders that not-much-short-of-an-ape cast; his listless drifting from one room to the next: it's a wonder of the age he's gotten this far.
It's nothing short of a miracle he's still able to swill out the spittoon and swab down the decks at Club Derrig in his decrepit condition. I almost feel pity for him.
But, no matter how he pleads, begs, and moans, he's only going to get his special "bathtime treat" from me once a year, and that's at Christmas. To do otherwise would simply be making a rod for my own back.
No comments:
Post a Comment