The old man wanted to enjoy the summer day. He wanted to sit on his porch, relax in his wooden chair and rock the afternoon away. If the wife appeared with an ice cold bourbon and lemonade, even better.
But that wasn’t happening. He was being tested by the Lord Almighty instead.
“What’s next, Grandpa?” the kid shrieked.
Twenty minutes and it felt like a decade. He needed something to keep this little maniac busy.
“Go check the number on the hydrant,” was his solution. The boy sprinted off without another word.
Sweet kid… good kid… dumb as a stump.
The Weekday One Hundred 