Off to South Lands

“Trooper’s just about dead,” Rose was telling Collette.

“What?” Collette asked, a little surprised.

“Yup, the vet says, you know how his leg is all sore? Well, it’s gangrenous.”

“Really?”

“Ha ha. Just kidding. I can’t believe you fell for that,” Rose laughed at her from behind the kitchen counter, dressed in her grim reaper robe from Halloween.

It was about time for Rose to head to Florida for a week.

“Last night,” Carrie-Bri was telling Collette, “Linnea and I were playing RISK. We heard a noise and Linnea looked up and said, ‘Thunder!’ It was Pumpkin jumping up onto the washing machine. Then while we were getting ready to go to bed last night, I was teasing Linnea about some boys she likes, or something like that, and she said, ‘No, not that one, Carrie, he’s bald!’ ‘Bald?’ I said. ‘Yes… He has a receiving hairline.’”

While Collette, Frances, and Linnea played a form of shuffleboard-air-hockey with Puck’s plastic donuts in the living room, Puck occasionally passed through their line of fire, while the suddenly apparently-recovered Troops, barked at the flying rings.

“He’s playing Monkey in the Middle,” Linnea giggled.

Meanwhile, Mom was in the kitchen preparing sweet cornbread, bacon, and fried eggs for breakfast, after which, Collette and Carrie reminisced over old Riverdance days.

Later that day, Collette and Linnea took Puck on a walk through the neighborhood. Hansel was out playing basketball. When he turned around and saw Linnea walk past, he dropped the basketball like a hot potato and ran inside. Linnea laughed. As soon as they walked back down the hill, they heard the sound of the basketball on pavement again. Apparently he had been too embarrassed to continue his game around a fellow classmate from Sunday School.

Upon return, Puck crawled around in his latest novelty: knitted red mittens. For some reason, he didn’t seem to mind wearing them even in the warm of the afternoon weather.

It was pretty much happy hour for Gus after his bottle, every night before bad. He had the look of a rather drunk baby once the contents of his bottle had finally been tucked away in his rumbling tummy.