The old man in his rocker reached for the bottle.
He poured a measure of single malt whisky into his glass. He thought about the one that had passed away. God rest his soul, he thought, as he put the glass to his lips. Naturally, there were other passings. Yes, and him, he thought, may he also rest in peace. He poured another to commemorate the sad event. There were so many of them. Ah! Yes, he’s another, God bless. He poured again.
This went on for a further half-hour. So many gone, he thought. So many sombre moments. I wonder why I talk about all of them as hims, he mused, I’m sure there must have been a few ladies among them. He looked at the half empty bottle. The porch was getting chilly. I’m going in now, he decided, and there’s no point in wasting electricity.
Before going in, he got up and switched off the electric mosquito zapper.
