My brother-in-law, Nigel, is a very grouchy man. He smells
like fish and he takes a shower once in a blue moon. I could count on one hand
the number of times he has changed his clothes.
I’m glad I hardly ever see him because not only do I have to put with
the smell that emanates from him but allow him to sit upon my furniture with
his filthy clothing. Whenever we meet,
he always is full of himself. He never
agrees with what I say. For example, my advice for buying new clothes goes out
the window. He wears an old worn out
fisherman’s hat on which a huge seagull is always perched. It’s obvious that he likes to be alone. Nigel
hates the laughter of children that come from the children who play on the
beach. On the other hand, he is very
kind to animals (except fish, he is a fisherman after all). His Australian
accent is very raspy as if he has something down his throat. It might be the few words that he speaks that
he is choking on. The only time a
crooked grin is on his face is when he’s standing alone on his boat looking out
to sea. The boat is the only home he’s ever known. I think you know now what I have to put up
with.
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