New Years' resolution(s)

Dog Boy spent an hour New Year's Eve setting off fireworks, a few of which were truly impressive. One even blew a mortar-shell sized hole in my lawn; another set some of the woods on fire. By the time the fire department came, we'd doused it and moved inside.

Dog Boy sat himself down and began taking stock of 2007.

"Big year. Next year gonna be better."

"Very grammatical," I told him. "Maybe you should make a resolution to speak in full sentences in 2008."

He gave me the Dog stare.

"I'm doing real things this year," he said.

"Like?"

"I don't know yet. But real things."

Which would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but Dog Boy never knows where to stop.

"You should have some serious resolutions," he told me. "You have to change the path you're on."

"Which path is that?"

"The road to ruin."

This is coming from a guy with slit eyes stretched out with his clothes on (thank God) in my bathtub. And its doubtful that those clothes have been changed, let alone washed, in a week.

There was only one response possible: I turned on the water and left him to soak in the tub.