Waves on the Duckpond

The beginning of August means just one thing in Wattmeister world, that one thing being the birthday of the beloved mother-in-law. Each year she celebrates the passing of another year with an updated installment of her sombre franchise, The Dead, The Dying, The Demented, The Diseased and The Decaying.

It is an ever expanding chronicle documenting the human endgame as witnessed from the 1st class departure lounge. The Wattmeister always feels energised by these monologues, inspired to ride his bike as much as possible before it is too late.

Thankfully, the deity that is embodied in the human form of The Wattmeisterin sees no obstacle to this simple pursuit. Why, this very morning, as the wind and rain were whipping up surf on the mother-in-law’s duck pond, so much so that the ducks and geese were fighting to ride monstrous tubes….she accompanied her unassuming husband on the return bike trip to The Hook of Holland.

Pedalling through the dunes into a raging tempest, The Wattmeister bellowed….”suck my wheel, angel!”….to the beleaguered trouble and strife, but, alas, the sentiment was lost in the gale, scattered across the dunes like ashes from an urn….for, back came the reply….”wait until we get to the nudist beach you old fool!”

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