081313 #copperhead To what? I'm sure as hell not going to leave the canoe here. I'd have to pay for it. Of course it's in my name. The money stuff, yeah, that's not his, uh, specialty. I mean, he works, it's not that, I mean how much can you really expect to make working part time stocking shelves and shoving jugs of milk toward the back side of the glass doors of the dairy section—he's like some kind of frozen fish in a dry aquarium when I see him back there, peering out between the curves of two percent, more sheepish in his dirty smock than any time I've seen him in the woods. I don't know. It's like he wears civilization like a thrift-store suit. He just borrows jobs. Whatever. I don't mind being the guy with the credit card. Whatever. But. Sometimes I do wish he'd get a