I'LL TOUCH YOUR TRAP
My son mentioned the other day that he wanted to hunt and trap. Imagine my concern when I came home and he appeared to be "cooking" his traps in black, waxy water on my stove. When I yelled at him to get out of my kitchen with his nasty mess, he informed me it was necessary to dye and wax the traps before he could use them. I opened the freezer, thinking I would find something for dinner. I saw a sack I hadn't seen before. As I started to open it, I heard my son running and yelling. "Don't open that bag, Mom."
"What's in there?" I questioned.
"Mom, believe me, you don't want to know."
I felt he was probably right, but I pursued the matter.
"Well, Mom," he continued, "if you must know, it's spoiled meat."
I think I screamed, "Why is it in the freezer now?"
He bought boots and a shovel. He also said he needed a pair of gloves because he didn't want to get his scent on the traps after he dipped them.
This little hobby that he claims is going to make him rich, has cost me a fortune.
Now I do have an edge on him. When I tell him to take out the trash and he says he's busy, I just tell him, "Fine, I'll go touch your traps."