#2 – Ah, Youth!

The family’s elder statesman, my brother Frank, telephoned last night. Mr. Public Defender wanted to amuse me with the tale of the latest miscreant he’d represented. According to Frank, young Thom Forrest, a testosterone-laced lad of 16, had unwittingly solicited a sexual act from an undercover policewoman, having mistaken her for a whore.

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#13 – A Dip in the Pool

First, I suppose a short update on Prometheus’ education might be expected. Last night, I borrowed a set of dog training DVD’s from my neighbors (not Lucrecia and Hernando; we’ve avoided each other like the plague, since the afternoon everyone realized how badly I keep a secret). The video’s cover advertised the training method as foolproof. And while the series isn’t actually titled “Dog Training for Dummies,” that’s certainly the intended image. Knowing Prometheus and me, all I can say is, “We’ll see.” Moving on, the focus of today’s entry concerns my telephone call with Frank this morning. My wise-ass brother phoned to discuss our sister’s impending nuptials.

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#147 – Batteries Not Included

Today I feel compelled to discuss the importance of flashlights. When Prometheus ran into the woods last night, again, I sped to the foyer for the flashlight I’d purchased against just that eventuality. But I couldn’t find it. Luckily, this time the puppy returned at my call, before any accident could occur. This morning, my wife informed me that she’d “borrowed” the flashlight and “might’ve” left it in the garage. Boy was I steamed. I said her carelessness had endangered our lives.

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#175 – Open Up

Bob has gone missing and Ellen blames Frank – so my brother reported during our phone call this morning. As I’ve mentioned before, Bob is their parrot. He is, or perhaps now was, a very smart bird; maybe too smart. Ellen may hold Frank responsible, but my brother points to his feathered friend’s impressive brainpower as the primary culprit. More specifically, Frank sees a vast divergence between the mental faculties of Bob and Ellen’s nephew as the principal cause of the disappearance.

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#198 – The Tennis Elbow

My brother finally got around to fixing his tennis elbow. Unsurprisingly, Frank insists normal repetitive stress from too many hours hitting balls caused his injury. I beg to differ though. Knowing him for the poor loser he’s always been, I think his elbow suffered more shocks from smashing tennis rackets and ping pong paddles than it could handle.

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