Guess What?

The stripers are running!

Die for me, fishie! Now take off all your clothes and lie down in pieces.

That's a cookie sheet, in case you're wondering. It's at least ten pounds of fish. For free.

We didn't catch him. Spag caught him. Spag's not his real name. We don't know what his real name is, but we don't care. Look what he gave us! And this is only half. Well, okay, a little more than half. But still.

One big piece (not pictured) we're giving to John B. (who indeed was asleep in the back of his white van in our driveway this morning, and who is on his way back over now. I guess he misses us).

Another big piece (also not pictured) Johnny plans to batter and fry in a pan. Because he's Irish, and it's Friday. Me, I would never batter and fry a fish this fresh.

But me, I still can't chew.

Chew? Hell, I can barely see. I'm lying in the dark with cool compresses on my forehead, sucking 800 mg ibuprofen tablets like they're sweet tarts and taking the taste out of my mouth with an endless parade of Pop Ice.

So I gots no say in the matter of how to cook the fish. If I'm lucky he'll really ruin it and I'll be able to gum down a bite or two. If he'll be good enough to bring it to me in the dark.

Good night stripers, everywhere.

PS I tried to do another sketchcast but it didn't work again. I'm giving up. But it's here if anybody's interested.