Fishing with Dynamite

“It’s what I thought!  You are allergic!  Sit down!”  Lewis rushed over to wobbling Jack.  He was hot to the touch.  “Aren’t some catfish poisonous?”

Jack’s eyes were wandering.  He couldn’t focus.  “Hey Lewis.”  Jack collapsed on to the ground taking Lewis down with him.  “Didn’t know ya cared?”  Jack laughed wheezing.  “The clay explosive in my pants.”  Jack pointed to the pile of his clothes.

“You and your hobbies.”  Lewis just held Jack.  “Stupid fuck.  That thing kilt you!  Damn it!”  It would take too long to drive out to any place with a doctor and Lewis wasn’t sure he could find the way out by himself.

“Don’t mind a dying.  Just die well, granddad used to say . . . Yeah!  Die Well!  . . . Yeah . . . Blow me up!”  Jack gasped.  “Life long dream.  Being blowed up good.”

“That’s crazy!  You’re fever.”  Lewis had heard Jack say this before but then he had been stoned senseless.  Now, he was sick senseless.  “Fever’s talking stupid!”

“Blow me up Jack!  Played with blowed ups my entire life to perfect, the perfect exploding end.”

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