A Bad Day

First off, my apologies for neglecting the blog. Summer and lots of activities got in the way, but I promise to do better. A rather bizarre story surfaced a week ago and I've got to tell it. I have changed the names of the participants, but the story is so bad it's good to remember when you roll over in bed one morning and think you'll have a 'bad day'. Nah... it couldn't be that bad!

We've got a good customer at the Landing who's been one of our regulars for at leastl twenty- five years. His name is Charles. The last few summers, Charles' wife, Edna has been spending less and less time here, but Charles loves to halibut fish and claims it's more peaceful here than in Lodi with Edna. He's a fairly amiable man. Last week, Charles was out fishing when he received an emergency message from Edna. The night before, Edna and her daughter-in-law and her twenty one year old grandson were on their way to Coalinga to spend the night. Why, Coalinga? Because Edna's son, and the grandson's dad, was getting released from prison where he'd been incarcerated for the past couple of years for drug possession. Charles wasn't with them because he'd washed his hands of his son's actions several years ago and doesn't have anything to do with him. Ditto for his grandson. Grandpa Charles had washed his hands of him about three years ago a) because the kid was gay and b) because he too was having trouble with drugs. Edna persisted in giving both the son and the grandson her attention (and money). They checked into a motel so they could get up good and early to go pick up dad at the prison, but the grandson got to thinking a couple of things. Since he was in possession of some drugs and either a) didn't want to get caught with them in the proximity of a state prison or b) (my personal favorite) he'd better use up his stash before his old man got released and used them up. So the grandson shot up that night while staying in the same room with mom and grandma. Next morning when the ladies woke up, the grandson is dead in bed with an overdose. Oh boy... how low can you go?

When Charles finally got in from fishing six hours later, he calls Edna on somebody's cell phone. I heard him ask plaintively, "Well, do you expect me to come home? I just got here and there's fish biting. You don't need me now, do you?" Phew! Charles-Buddy, haven't you learned anything after forty odd years of marriage????!!! And no, we haven't seen Charles this week. I bet he's stuck in Lodi until next summer.

Have a good day!