Beer Cap Pockets

Bruce Fish told me, with a big grin, that he'd caught someone dump sleeping; it was French.  He'd walked over to the dump to see Bruce Fish and Rose, but he'd missed them.  He'd been drinking pretty heavy so he just crashed in their trailer/office.

Bruce Fish had come in early, before his shift started, and found his friend passed out.  He let him sleep it off and worked on his dump art.

When French finally woke up and came out of the trailer he started to empty his pockets.  They were full of beer caps.  This is our old method from high school to keep track of our beer consumption.  Sweaty and I drove up from the cottage to collect his brother and we were marvelling about the pile of caps on the table.  It was a big heap of PBR and Bud caps.  French had been "having a few" with our summer cottage neighbours from Pennsylvania.

There was a lot of laughing and back slapping.  French mostly grinned sheepishly and rubbed his temples.  I didn't count them, but I remarked that it looked like the new record.

Rose had come in unnoticed.  She said: "that is some kinda tragic record."