Thanks. I liked yours too, Laga, and laughed right into the second sentence.

Of course, I dare anyone to say "Dad's little swim trunks" without smiling. Comedy gold.

thanks, Sail. I decided to click on picture #6 sight unseen and write the first thing that popped in my head. If you knew me, you wouldn't be surprised it was hoyay... actually now that I think about it my first thought was of kids who are embarassed by their Dad. The hoyay crept in after I started typing.

Last one for today. Photo Ten.

Return

I was downright terrified. And Emily - well obviously this was when she was still talking to me, a million years before the Milwaukee incident but that's another story - so Emily clutched my hand and told me not to be scared, and that she was gonna look after me forever.

Funny how I remember little details. It was damn sunny, and behind me that weird girl Polly was singing made-up stuff like always - Polly died in a fire the following year, poor girl - and suddenly, he was there. And he was crying.

Emily, always the braver one, spoke first. “Dad?”

you're making my allergies act up, Wolfram.

Photo two.

Home Improvement

She perused the book carefully. This one looked strong. Heavily muscled legs, good if the horse pulled a tendon and couldn't be hitched to the plow. Good strong arms, he would wield a powerful axe. No fear of running short of firewood. From Aberdeen, a Scot? Thrift would be required if the annual payment on the farm was to be made in time. The face, though comely, didn't tell her much. Would he be a kind father to her children? Would she have to wear long sleeves, again, even in the summer?

There were more pictures. She turned the page.

Ooh I like it, Sail.

Me too. Nice one, Sail.

Picture three.

Rehearsal

“You don’t look sick.”

“I said, I am disease. Well, my real name is Pesti...”

“Are you contagious?”

“I’m the manifestation, not the condition. Why did I bring you again?”

“They’re my horses.”

“Right. It was my turn to bring the stand-ins.”

“Also, my sister told you to.”

“Speaking of...don’t tell the guys I’m married. I kinda forgot to invite them. What? We only do this every other decade. I don’t even know Death’s current host, much less his address.”

“Does my sister know?”

“Doubtful. She’s never met him.”

“That you’re diseased.”

“I’m not diseased, I’m...just forget it.”

Heh. Very cute.

Heh, that's a good one, Wolfram. My mind is staying so very much in the plebian with these pictures, I'm having a hard time coming up with anything.