The Angler

It is with a heavy heart that I write this latest update. After being attacked by the Early Bird with the 'teething ray' that has left me covered in spit and cranky I thought it couldn't get any worse. Apparently the forces of evil are in fact...well...evil. I am to assume that the nexus of evildoers must have some sort of facebook page in which they conspire against me. Dislike button.

Last weekend the Agriculturalist, La Vaca, and I went to Medfield to do some visiting. We saw Nanna D and then she and I walked over to Uncle Chico's house. Mom and Dad met us over there but Uncle Chico wasn't home. We stopped by Chad's instead and we did some visiting but the whole time I couldn't concentrate because I had a bad feeling.

Where was Chico? I found out that he was heading up to Maine and then to Canada to go fishing. That sounds fun. I don't know what it is but it sounds fun. It appears that he was going to sell my great grandmother's house and then continue up Down East.

So far so good. Then I asked some questions. What is fishing? What is Canada? I am not sure I liked the answer. To catch a fish, it seems, is not like catching a baseball or a cold. I have seen people catch baseballs and that seems fun. I have caught a cold and that wasn't fun. To catch a fish you put a metal hook in the water and the fish bites it. That sounds dumb. Why would a fish bite a hook? The answer was that you put something on the hook that the fish likes to eat so that it fools the fish. Like what I asked? La leche de madre? No, I was told. You put things like...wait for it...WORMS on hooks.

WORMS! That is barbaric. I am a worm! I don't want a fish to bite me and I don't want to be impaled on a hook. This is horrible. Then it occurred to me. I have been warned about The Angler before and I have read about his shady dealings. Could Uncle Chico be the Angler?

Is it possible that he absconded with my great-grandmother's money and fled to another country (I found out that Canada is another country that is like the U.S. only polite)? Could there be an enemy amongst us?

Can I trust ever again? Oh, readers, what a week. I think I need a three day weekend to recover from this potential disaster.

Wish me well.