Christmas Lake

It was Sonja's alarm that woke me up this morning instead of my own. No work for me thanks to Jesus Fucking Christ being born, the Three Fucking Wise Men, the Star of Fucking Bethlehem and the rest of that bollocks. Still got out of bed before my fartsack warm partner. Dog out, coffee for me, tea for the lady. Turned on the radio.

CKNW.

Another man shot in the motherfucking head.

I wondered, as I stirred my sweet as the Virgin Mary coffee, if it has occurred to anybody that shooting the Angel outside that Kelowna casino might have fucked up their Christmas vacations.
   
The Hammer and I waited for Sonja to choose which pair of shoes to wear to work then we kissed her goodbye.

"Don't work too hard. Ha-ha."

Then I took the Hammer to the lake. My dog had fun in the water. I looked, with Andy's eyes, into the wicked delicious mists of our exploding plastic inevitable universe. I had never felt so happy to be alive as I did that very moment. There were a few beach birds there to share the moment with me as my dog had thoughts similar.

Nothing beats being on the beach.

When it was time to go my dog did not want to. As I walked away from the lake she stood on the beach looking at me, then the water. Oh Beer! Do we have to go? If she made like Dog Jesus and turned the water into dog food she would still be there splish-splashing and I would still be there trying to convince her she was not Dog Jesus even if she had turned the whole lake into a million pounds of throbbing cat meat.

After our fun at the lake we came back home and I did a little more drinking for the Baby Fucking Jesus. A man could never write the words "a million pounds of throbbing cat meat" without having the phrase coaxed out of him by self-waterboarding himself with alcohol first.