“Ron, wake up! Where did you put those fish guts last night?” I yelled to the still sleeping man.“Huh, what?” Ron mumbled, as he stuck his hea... out of the tent.“Get out here!”Ron slowly crawled out of the tent and stumbled in my direction.“I’ve got to pee,” he said.“Come here first!”Ron came closer. He had a foggy look on his face. He was apparently still half asleep.“Look down there.”Ron looked down toward the water and then mumbled something undistinguishable under his breath.There near the. It would make a super swishing sound but hardly do more than tickle her buttocks.Richard spent much of Tuesday morning rootling round in the attic. Inevitably he found plenty of digressions: photographs, letters, diaries and even an exercise book with a short story by his mother. He also found the fly whisk and it did indeed make a thoroughly impressive swish. He tried it out on his forearm and, sure enough, it stung slightly but left no more than a slight reddening.The next thing to decide was. More

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