Just something I’ve been working on for a few days. Parts of it were cannibalized from other abandoned projects, but as a whole, I rather like it. It’s very cathartic. 🙂
“Work” is, without a doubt, my least favorite 4-letter word.
In all fairness, however, it’s not the work itself that gets to me. It can be difficult, and at times downright frustrating, but I do enjoy the challenge of it. It’s the things (and people) I cannot control that make it truly onerous.
On this particular Friday, after 9 hours of wrestling software into submission, I was ready for a nice long weekend of doing nothing in particular. I turned off my monitor and stood, reaching for my lunch bag on its customary hook, when the smell of stale cigarettes wafted up my nostrils. My heart sank.
“Hey, Champ. Got a minute?”
I turned to face my erstwhile boss, a greasy little weasel named Niles Lamb. Despite the fact that he was almost a decade younger than me, his extra pounds and receding hairline made him look older. And a handful of years of seniority made him think he was smarter, too.
He wasn’t. But I was far too paranoid to tell him so.
“Yes, Mr. Lamb. One moment.” I rehung my bag, and followed him to his office.
Ninety minutes later, after a few minor miracles and far too much micro-management, I trudged to my car, a late-model Honda coupe. No surprise, it was one of the few vehicles left in the parking lot, as most everyone else had managed an early start on the weekend. By sheer force of will, I managed to stay awake for the drive home, aided in some small part by irksome drivers who seemed unable to comprehend the concepts of “speed limits”, “turn signals”, or “merging”.
I turned into the housing complex, cursing quietly in a random assortment of languages, some real, some fictional, only to find that someone had taken my parking spot. Indeed, said vehicle, a truck from a moving company I’d never heard of, had not only taken my spot, but was parked horizontally across an entire row of spaces. Several jumpsuit-clad figures were carrying boxes and bundles up the stairs to the second unit in my duplex apartment, one that had remained blessedly empty for some time.
I sat behind the wheel and watched them for a few minutes, but there was no indication that they would be moving soon, so, grumbling further imprecations, I drove down to the next section of the lot, some 75 yards away, and found an unused space by the communal dumpster.
As the sun sank below the horizon, I finally entered the sparsely decorated apartment that had been my home for the past 5 years. I pulled some leftover rice from the fridge, nuking it into edibility, and sat in the living room to watch, or at least stare at, the TV.
Once again, however, reality conspired against me, as the continual chorus of footsteps, shuffling furniture, and half-comprehensible conversation made it impossible to focus on the screen, and each new sound served merely to darken my mood further. Finally, at 9PM, I gave up, and shut everything down, retiring to my room where I buried my head under the pillows until sleep finally brought blessed relief.
The morning sun was just peeking through the blinds when I found myself pulled awake by a rhythmic thumping noise. Eyes bleary, I tried to deduce its origin.
Was it the heating system? Of course not. It was far too warm for that. And that was more mechanical sounding.
Was it music? No, not that either. The sound lacked the harmonics of a good bass line, and the tempo was too low.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The thump came again, and I tilted my head to ascertain the source. It almost sounded like it was coming from outs-…
There was a sharp crack, and the Venetian blinds burst outwards, as a dark projectile crashed through the window, narrowly missing my head as it rebounded off the wall and spun off into the middle of the room. “WHAT THE HELL!” I roared, scared out of my wits.
As my heart raced, I could hear the pattering of rushing footsteps, and the slam of a door upstairs. At last, there was blessed silence, marred only by the tinkle of glass shards falling from the windowpane. I carefully turned on the lamp to see a handball resting amidst the wreckage.
About an hour later, having successfully negotiated my way to the kitchen without injury and consumed my usual light breakfast, I was cleaning up the detritus in my bedroom when I heard my doorbell ring. I dumped the final load of glass into the trash can and stalked over to the front door, wrenching it open.
“What!” I scowled.
“Mr. Mentor?” my visitor, a buxom woman of middle age, inquired. Her blond hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and she looked about as tired as I felt.
“Yes. What is it?” I muttered.
“My name is Lily Beaumont, and this,” she stepped to the side, “is my son, Daniel.”
I looked down, and found myself staring at a preadolescent boy with the expression of a condemned prisoner. He looked up nervously, biting his lower lip.
“Daniel has something to say.” Lily added.
I looked at him expectantly. He shuffled back and forth for a few minutes, before lifting his head and gazing at me with surprisingly warm brown eyes. He took a deep breath.
“I was playing catch with myself and the ball bounced wrong and I broke your window and I know I’m gonna get grounded, but I’m really really sorry and I promise not to do it again so don’t be mad at me mister, please?”
He stopped, panting. We stared at each other in silence, and I finally responded. “Apology accepted, young man. I appreciate your honesty in admitting your responsibility.”
He smiled slightly, unsure of what was next. I turned to face his mother.
“Don’t be too hard on him, Mrs. Beaumont. I was young myself. Once. Many many moons ago.”
She giggled at this, sounding surprisingly girlish. “Miss, actually. But you can call me Lily.”
“Only if you call me Nate.” I responded, long-unused programs for neighborliness coming online at last.
“Very well, Nate. It may take some time, but I insist on paying for the window.”
I shrugged, waving one hand dismissively. “That won’t be necessary, Lily. When I moved in, I splurged for the renter’s insurance. It should cover this, easily.”
She paused, chewing her lip in the exact fashion her son had earlier. “I still want to repay you for your trouble, somehow. Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? I was going to make Beef Stroganoff, and there’s always enough for an extra bowl.”
Beside her, Daniel shuffled his feet, and shyly chimed in “My mom is a great cook. All my friends say so. At least they used to…”
His voice broke, and he turned away. Lily looked down at him with a mixture of concern and affection. “You can go upstairs now, Daniel. I’ll be right up.”
He dashed off, and she turned to face me. “The move was hard on him. But we just had to get away, for both of our sakes.”
I nodded. “Moving can be a very stressful time, particularly for a child. But based on his glowing endorsement, I accept your invitation.”
“Great!” she beamed. “Dinner is at 5. You don’t have to dress up.”
“I’ll be there.” I promised. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?” she replied, eyes puzzled.
I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the handball. “You can give this back to Daniel. It clashes with my decor.”
I grinned at her, and she smiled back. “See you at 5!”
She flounced up the stairs, and I returned to my empty apartment. After straightening up the bedroom and blocking the broken pane with a backing board from my last comics shipment, I retired to the living room for a lazy morning of rest & relaxation.
I turned on the stereo, and sat in my favorite chair, gazing over the bookshelves with a practiced eye as one of my favorite singers began to muse about real life and fantasy. Unconsciously, I reached out and grabbed a pen from the end table, spinning it idly around my fingers.
Predictably, I fell asleep.
When my eyes fluttered open once more, the clock on the entertainment center read 4:25. At first, my sleep-fuddled brain wondered why it was so bright, so early, until my higher brain functions kicked in, and I remembered what I’d been invited to this evening.
I half-ran, half-stumbled to the bathroom. After a cold shower and a quick shave, I looked presentable, if not exactly attractive. Passing the large mirror in the bedroom, I sighed. A sedentary life had made me lose the six-pack of my youth. Currently, it resembled more a pony keg.
I shrugged, and pulled fresh clothes from the appropriate drawers and closets. Recalling Lily’s instructions, I selected a more casual outfit of a V-neck shirt and slacks, what my sister used to call “Simon Cowell drag”.
Then again, she used to like disco. I have proof.
Slightly after 5, I locked my door and ascended to the unit above. There was a muffled shout and a clatter of footsteps, before the door finally opened, to reveal the scrubbed and combed features of young Daniel.
“Mom! It’s Mr. Mentor!” he shouted. I heard an exasperated sigh in response.
“Let him in, Daniel..” his mother’s voice finally replied. Daniel tensed slightly and stepped back, “Please come in, sir.”
I grinned at him, “Why thank you, my good man!”
He looked up at me, eyes quizzical. I winked at him and stepped inside. The upstairs unit was almost identical to mine in layout, save only for a few shifted walls, but I was surprised to see the transformation Lily had wrought in such a brief time. As I followed Daniel to the kitchen, I could see the small touches (a throw pillow here, a photo there) that transformed a house into a home. There was even a drawing of a Viking (Daniel’s work, by the scrawled name) affixed to the refrigerator.
It all felt very warm and welcoming, and despite myself, I started to relax.
Lily came bustling out, wiping her hands on a towel. “Nate! Welcome to our home!”
I walked over to shake her hand. “Sorry I’m late…” I began, only to find myself wrapped in her fairly substantial embrace.
“Nonsense! You are just in time!” she cried, squeezing me joyfully. I shrugged inwardly and hugged her back. We broke the embrace, and she led me to the table, where her son had already seated himself, a look of irritated hunger in his eyes. I took the proffered chair, and was soon served with a heaping serving of Stroganoff on a bed of egg noodles. Not wanting to seem rude, I waited for Lily to serve the lad and herself before digging in.
He had been mistaken. His mother wasn’t a good cook. She was a GREAT cook. And I brooked no delay in telling her so, and was rewarded with her blushing. But after two servings, I found myself needing a break.
I glanced at the refrigerator briefly, before turning to the boy and asking “Danny? Could you please pass the water?”
Danny looked over at me, shocked. “How’d you know I…”
“Three reasons,” I intoned, holding up three fingers. “First: You are what… ten, eleven?”
“Eleven and a half!” he affirmed. “Well, nearly…”
“Eleven and a half.” I amended. “And you don’t look like a ‘Daniel’. It is far too formal.”
I folded my ring finger. “Second: I saw your face when your mom called you Daniel. Not a fan?”
He blushed, and looked over at his mom, who had a mixture of curiosity and affection on her face. “Naw, not really,“ he muttered, “but it’s ok if she does it.”
“Of course, of course” I responded. “And finally, three:” I folded my middle finger, and pointed over his head. He turned, and saw his picture on the refrigerator.
“Danny the Barbarian. A self-portrait, I take it?” I grinned.
He blushed even redder, while his mother giggled. “Amazing, Mentor!” she replied, affecting a stuffy British accent.
“Elementary, my dear Beaumont.” Even Danny laughed at that one.
“Actually,” I continued, “Your drawing reminds me of a story I heard once, back in college. Would you like to hear it?”
Danny bobbed his head. “Yessir, Mr. Mentor.”
“When I was in college, I belonged to a group called the SCA…” I began. Danny’s eyes never left my face, as I told the tale of some SCA fighters, and a post-practice meal.
“…he looked down at the coin. Looked up at the cashier. Looked down at the coin again. Looked up again. Took a deep breath.”
I inhaled. “‘COOKED!!!”
Lily and Danny cracked up, their laughter filling the kitchen. Finally, Lily stopped, wiping tears from her eyes. Danny followed suit moments later. “Do you have any other stories like that, Mr. Mentor?”
I nodded, and, as Lily prepared dessert, launched into another tale. Danny proved to be an attentive audience, and I continued to regale him with yarns from my past, pausing only when his mother placed a wonderful-smelling piece of Tollhouse pie in front of me.
And even then, I talked around bites of pie and ice cream.
Finally, however, I ran out of pie, and was running short on stories, as well. The sky beyond the kitchen window had grown dark, and I feared I’d overstayed my welcome. With only a slight delay due to a full stomach, I stood.
“Thank you, Lily, for an excellent meal. But it has been a long day, and I believe it is time for me to g-”
“Mom!” Danny interrupted.
“Daniel!” she snapped, voice sharp.
“Can Mr. Mentor please stay and watch a movie with us?” he continued.
She looked over at me, and I shrugged slightly. “Only if he agrees.” she replied.
Danny turned to me, eyes welling with well-practiced cuteness. “Pleeeease! It’ll be fun!”
“I think I can manage a couple more hours.” I answered, surrendering to the inevitable.
“YAY!” Danny shouted, almost leaping from his chair.
“Go brush your teeth and change for bed. We’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”
Danny bobbed his head, and dashed down the hall. She watched him go, before turning back to me, a serious look on her face.
“Nate, I want you to know that I have no concerns about the fact that you are gay.”
I blinked. “Um… I’m not gay, Lily.”
“Bi, then.” she responded.
“I’m not bisexual, either. “ I replied. “May I ask why you thought I was?”
She shrugged. “Because, when we met, you looked at my face, not my tits. I figured you couldn’t possibly be straight.”
I grinned. “You figured correctly. I’m neither gay nor straight. I’m asexual.”
“Oh!” she cried, “I heard about that. But you don’t wear the black ring?”
“Never found one that fits these mitts” I answered, spreading my fingers wide in demonstration. “Anyway, I don’t advertise it much.”
She nodded. “In any case, I trust you. I have a sixth sense about these things, and it has only failed me once.”
It was pretty simple to connect the dots. “Danny’s father?”
“I prefer the term ‘sperm donor’.” she said, face dark. “He will never have a role in Daniel’s life again.”
I reached over and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
She leaned into the hug for a moment, before pulling away. “We’d better get going. Daniel gets quite upset if movie night is delayed.”
“Of course, what nearly eleven and a half boy wouldn’t?”
She tittered quietly, and we adjourned to the main room. True to her word, Danny was already perched on the couch, bouncing with excitement in his blue PJs. “Sit by me, Mr. Mentor!” he cried, as his mother sat in one of the chairs.
I plopped down next to him, as he prodded the remote, bringing up a film I’d meant to see but never had the chance, called SUPER 8. As the film rolled on, capturing my attention, my fingers idly fiddled with his hair. Slowly, he wormed his way under my arm, until he was leaning against my chest, half-awake.
By the end of the film (which was better than I’d expected), he was sprawled across my lap, dead to the world. I looked over to Lily, who nodded. Carefully, trying not to wake him, I lifted him into my arms, and followed his mother to his room (which happened to be the equivalent of mine downstairs), where she turned down the sheets so I could lay him in bed.
“Sweet dreams, Danny.” I whispered, as I worked my arms free.
“G’night Dad.” he muttered, wriggling into the pillow. I stepped back, alarmed.
“He’s tired.” I murmured to Lily. “He forgot who I was.”
She nodded. “That must be it.”
I followed her to the front door. “Thank you for coming.” she whispered.
“The pleasure was all mine.” I responded, bending over to kiss her on the forehead. “Good night.”
“Night.”
I slowly walked downstairs, and let myself into my apartment. My Spartan, almost unfurnished apartment. With a deep sigh, I stripped off my clothes, and crawled into bed, thinking of the home over my head.
The following morning, at around 9:30, I pulled on an old pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and prepared to go grocery shopping. As I stepped from my door, I found myself confronted by a cherubic youngster, engrossed in what sounded like a cutthroat game of Angry Birds.
I cleared my throat, and Danny looked up. “Hi, Mister Mentor!”
“Hello, Danny. What brings you out at this hour?”
“Huh?”
“When I was your age, I slept until at least noon on Sundays. That was the fun of it.” I grinned.
“Ohhhh!” he replied. “Mom told me to get some fresh air while she did the laundry. She said she’d get more done without me helping.”
“Entirely possible. I was about to go shopping. Would you like to come with?”
“Cool! Let me ask Mom!” He dashed upstairs, and was back before I could dig out my keys. “All set. Mom said that as long as we were back by lunch, it would be ‘aces with me’. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded. “It means we had better hit the road.”
With Danny in tow, I marched across the lot to my Honda, triggering the door locks once we were in range. As was my wont, I opened the door for him first, watching carefully to ensure I didn’t clip him in the arm when I closed it shut.
I sat behind the wheel. and turned on the engine, drawing the seatbelt across my lap before the usual chime grew too insistent. I turned to help danny, only to find he’d already strapped himself in.
“Mom won’t leave until all belts are fastened.” Danny remarked, correctly interpreting my look of surprise.
“Your mother is a very smart woman.” I replied, as I carefully put the car in reverse. Danny grinned.
“And her son is pretty sharp too.” I added, and was rewarded with a fierce blush.
“I’m nothin special.” Danny mumbled.
“I choose to disagree. And I’m older than you are, so I’m almost certainly right.”
Danny rolled his eyes, and settled back into his seat. The local market had been squeezed out a few years back by the empire of Wal-Mart, leaving us with two options… drive 15 miles to the next town over, or settle for the Mart’s prices.
As a man of simple tastes & diet, I chose to settle. Hence, it was about 10 minutes later that we parked in the parking lot, and snagged one of the wild carriages roaming free in the summer breeze.
Danny acquitted himself well as my wingman, helping out by fetching peanut butter and applesauce while I waited for my deli order. Indeed, there was only one moment where his resolve to help crumbled, as we rolled toward the bread aisle.
I turned down the aisle to fetch some bulkie rolls, when a sixth sense told me that Danny had left my side. Slightly panicked, I whirled about, only to see him standing in front of a Hostess display, gazing longingly at the wares.
I walked over, and tapped him gently on the arm. “Problem, champ?”
He looked up, eyes wistful. “I used to love Twinkies. We all would go to the State Fair, and I’d gorge myself on them. But then my dad… well… he changed. And we didn’t go out anymore.”
I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, cuddling him tight. “I think my shopping budget can extend to a package. Although I’m a Ding Dongs man myself.”
Despite his bleak mood, Danny snorted. “They look like hockey pucks!”
“Never get between a man and his chocolate goodies.” I intoned with false gravitas. This elicted a giggle, and a slight improvement in Danny’s mood. We swung by the dairy aisle for some small bottles of milk (I confess to indulging in chocolate), and made our way to checkout.
Afterwards, we sat on a bench outside the store, devouring our creamy treats.
“Thanks, Mister Mentor.” Danny stated at last, wiping off his milk mustache with the back of his hand. “That was cool.”
“Any time, Danny. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Stop calling me Mister Mentor. We’re friends, right? And my friends call me Nate.”
Danny shook his head. “Mom says I should always call adults Mister or Missus, or Miss. I’m supposed to respect people older n’ me.’
“I’m not THAT old…” I replied. “I’m only 45.”
Danny paused, lips moving in thought. “Wow, you could be my granddad!”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Not quite. If anything, I’d be an uncle”
Danny’s eyes widened. “That’s it!”
“Hmm?”
“I could call you Uncle Nate. Then I wouldn’t have to use your last name all the time.”
I looked down on him, emotions warring in my face. Affection won, and I gave him a quick hug.
“I would LOVE to be your uncle, Danny.” I murmured.
“Deal.” Danny announced. “Uncle Nate? Can we have some ice cream?”
I grinned down at him. “Nice try, but I don’t want to ruin your lunch. Next time, okay?”
“Awww… all right.”
We drove back to the apartment complex. Thanks to the early hour, and the lack of moving vehicles, I was able to reclaim my usual parking spot, which meant that Danny and I could unpack the trunk fairly quickly.
Afterwards, he half-led, half pulled me upstairs. “Mom! We’re home!”
Lily opened the door, noticing my presence on the stoop. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Nate. The apartment needed a good airing out, and Danny has a way of attracting dirt. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.”
“Not at all. In fact, he was a lot of help.”
“Oh?” she replied, lifting an eyebrow.
Danny chimed in. “Yep! I got the peanut butter and the olive oil while Uncle Nate was buying sammich stuff.”
The eyebrow raised another notch. “‘Uncle’ Nate?”
“It was the only way I could get him to use my first name.” I replied sheepishly. “I guess that makes me your big brother.”
She stared at me for a moment, and then her gaze softened. “I think I’d like that. Would you like to stay for lunch?”
I looked over at Danny, whose face had grown anxious, and nodded. “I would be delighted.”
Danny’s beaming smile was my reward. And, to be honest, it was worth it.
After a brief meal of grilled cheese sandwiches, I made ready to leave.
“Do you have to, Uncle Nate?” Danny cried.
“Afraid so,” I responded. “I have a lot to do around the place. I haven’t even made my bed yet.”
Danny’s head sagged. “I was hoping we could hang out. There’s nothing to do around here.”
Lily laid her hands on his shoulders, before turning it into a simple hug. “There’ll be time for that later. Actually, I have a favor to ask you, Nate.”
“Hmm?”
She nodded. “I have a job interview tomorrow morning, and I really don’t want to leave Daniel all alone. Is there any way you could watch him?”
I shook my head. “Afraid not. My job requires me to get there pretty early in the morning, and Mondays are the worst. About the only way I could watch him is if I took him with me, and I’m sure that would be boring for him.”
Lily looked down “What do you think, Daniel? Would you like to see where Nate works?”
Danny twisted in her grip and nodded. “Uncle Nate’s fun. I like him.”
“I like him too.” she affirmed. She looked up, again. “Well? Think you can handle him, big brother?”
“I love a challenge… little sister.” I grinned. We made arrangements for him to be at my door at 7AM the following day, and I gave her a quick peck on the cheek in farewell. Danny wrapped my waist in a bear hug, and (after peeling him free) I made my way back downstairs.
The rest of the day passed without incident, save for a brief interruption at around 5:00, when Danny appeared on my doorstep with a bowl of leftover Stroganoff.
“Mom said you’d ‘preciate it more than I would,” he explained.
“Give her my thanks.” I replied. Danny nodded, and seemed to be waiting for something. I took an educated guess, and opened my arms.
Yep. Another hug. I was starting to feel like a teddy bear. The funny thing was, I really didn’t mind. Finally, he let go, and I prepared for a quiet evening.
The following morning (early, if not particularly bright) I performed my usual ablutions and light breakfast, half-distracted as I listened for a step on the stairs. Finally, I heard the thump of sneakers on the wood, and a gentle rap on the door.
Danny was dressed neatly in slacks and a polo shirt, and a backpack was slung over one shoulder. The bleary expression on his face suggested his mom had probably helped him out, however.
“You OK, Danny?” I asked solicitously.
“Couldn’t sleep.” he mumbled. “Too excited.”
I patted his shoulders. “It’s a pretty long drive. You can nap in the car.”
“‘kay, Unc’Nate.”
By the time we turned into the office lot, Danny was more coherent. I waved my badge at the sensor, before typing in the security code.
“That’s cool!” he remarked. “It’s like Mission Impossible!”
I shrugged. “More like Get Smart. It was broken a good chunk of last week.”
Danny’s enthusiasm was undimmed, as we climbed the stairs to my cubicle. As usual, I was one of the first to arrive, so it was a simple matter to fetch a spare chair and set him up in the corner. He pulled out a book, and began to read.
One by one, my co-workers arrived. To some, I joked that he was my new intern, but after a while that gag grew stale, and I merely stated the (relative) truth… he was my nephew, and I was watching him for the day.
Actually, I was rather proud of him. He was very respectful to my fellow engineers, and, to my surprise, quite the little charmer to the secretarial staff, who were more than happy to anoint him with hugs, cheek pinches, and (in one case) a box of Girl Scout cookies.
It all went fairly well, until shortly before lunch. I was hunched over my computer, and Danny was staring out the window at the trees, when a familiar stale aroma wafted its way into my sensorium.
I turned to see Mr. Lamb standing at the door to my cube, tapping his foot irritatedly.
“We aren’t running a babysitting service here, Mentor.” he grumbled. “If you have time to babysit, then maybe I need to find more for you to do.”
“Hey!” Danny shouted, turning from the view, “I ain’t no baby. And Uncle Nate’s been working all morning.”
Lamb looked down at him over the top of his glasses. “I don’t recall asking your opinion, son.”
“You aren’t my dad!” Danny shouted, “Though you smell like he did. You stink!”
“DANIEL!” I snapped. Danny looked at me, a shocked expression on his face. I turned to my boss, and quietly stated, “My apologies, Mr. Lamb. His actions will receive the proper response.”
He sniffed. “I should certainly hope so. Children today should respect their betters.”
“Indeed.”I replied. “Daniel will get what he deserves.”
I turned to him. “Gather your things. We’re leaving. Now.”
Eyes wide, Danny complied, as I set my mouth into a grim line. After shutting down my computer, I fetched my bag, and we left the building.
As we passed through the security gate, Danny looked up at me. “Uncle Nate… am I in trouble?”
I looked around, carefully, before shaking my head, and letting loose the suppressed laughter I’d been holding in. “Far from it, Danny. I’ve wanted to pop that stuffed shirt’s ego for YEARS.”
Danny visibly relaxed. “Really?”
“Cross my heart. Sorry for scaring you like that, but I do still have to work with the guy.
“It’s OK, Uncle Nate.” he remarked, wrapping me in one of his customary hugs. “I don’t care about him. Just you.”
“And I care about you, Danny. But come on. We have to get going, and I have a promise to keep.”
“Huh?”
“I seem to recall some mention of ice cream…” I grinned. Danny’s face broke into a sunny smile.
A short while later, as I watched him dig into a hot fudge sundae only slightly smaller than his head, I came to a realization.
I may not enjoy work… but that should never stop me from enjoying life.
This was a really cute story. Lots of warmth and understanding. And affection. Thanks for a wonderfully enjoyable read, Nate. 🙂
Thanks for reading, Bill.
I recognize bits of that from previous stories! Very sweet story. Good for you for writing again!
Hehe! Pony keg… 🙂
Thanks. I’m not 100% out of the doldrums, but I’m better.
Unfortunately, the “pony keg” is one of the parts based on reality. 😛
It’s kewl to see you writing again 🙂
I like the story!
Joe
Thanks!