One of my favorite things about Steven is I never know what he is going to say when I call. Sometimes, though, it starts out pretty ... disturbing.
Steven: I must clean up the Lake...of...Death!
Me: Er...lake of death?
Yes. The Lake...of...Death!
You have a lake of death?
Yes.
<long pause>
Umm...
It finally happened, Bunny.
A lake of death?
Yes.
Umm...
Yes. The fish did not survive the winter.
Heavy sigh. He has a pond in his backyard with about 20 goldfish. They've lived for, I don't know, 10 years or more? They were large. And today, they were all floating.
Poor fishies.
