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Hot Day (part 4)

My father walks every day-- EVERY  day--rain or shine. Today was not only one of the shine days, but it was also one of the hot days. The   very   hot days. I try to pass along this information to him, but if there's one thing I've learned from dealing with my father, it's that I can't deal with my father. "Pop," I tell him, "it's hot outside." "No, it's not." "Sure it is." "No, it's not." "I was just outside. It's hot." "It feels cool to me." "It feels cool to you because we're inside the house. Outside, it's hot." But my father isn't really listening to me. He's trying on the new pair of Nike walking shoes I've just brought him from Tucson. "Yeah," he tells himself, "these feel good. It's just what I needed." He stands up after putting them on and does a little high-stepping around the island in the kitchen. "They fit perfect...
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Funny Shades of Grey--chapter twenty

Chapter Twenty    " Ugh! " Christian ughs. " Ugh! "   But it's no use.   Christian threatened that he was going to lift me over his shoulder like the naughty little girl I am and carry me helplessly inside his Love Parlor/Bait Shop, yet gravity keeps me firmly attached to the ground.   "Crockett!" he calls out and from out of nowhere his Man Friday appears. "Pick up Miss Steele and take her into the Bait Shop," he orders him.   So much for helplessly.   "Boss," Crockett complains, "can't you have me lift something easier, like Mt. Rushmore?"   Christian ignores him and is already walking away.   With a huff and a puff and a grunt and a groan, Crockett lifts me off my feet and over his shoulder. Step by step and inch by inch, he carries me inside.   I look inside and am disappointed by what I see. Fish guts everywhere. And the smell . It stinks like high tide, if high tide was low tide. The strong stink ...
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