Three weeks later…
BOOYAH, GRANDMA.
Ichi-chan is still very alive and now kicking. What is the world coming to when a boozer like me can keep a
fatally wounded man alive where a doctor gave up? Anyway, he's not particularly the talkative type, preferring the
company of the bedroom wall to me.
Definite head case with a slightly glassy stare to back it up. No worries, though. Must be just some sort of shock
syndrome. If he starts putting small
animals in the microwave, then I'll worry.
The other day we played a few hands of cards. He won every fucking time. That can't be natural.