4.5mm feedback
Carlton
gave his grandson a BB gun—
a
real rifle. It had a caliber.
“After
breakfast I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“Oh,
boy!” Dad was blasé. Mom got angry.
“I
thought we had an agreement, Carlton.”
“It
comes with safety lessons, don’t worry,”
he
winked at the boy, “taught by the master.”
“He’s
too young.” “You’re too protective, mother.”
“Ralph?”
Mom turned, but dad was in another
room,
a vote in absentia.
“Not funny!”
Carlton
barked at the boy who’d said “Pweee!”
with
the sight to his eye, aiming at Buck,
the
old retriever drowsing on the hearth.
“You’re
responsible now for protecting
your
family and yourself.” But his daughter,
when
he glanced at her, looked livid. “Go back
to
L.A.,” she thought. “Have a heart attack.”
By Michael Fleischmann |
Comments
Post a Comment