Just thought I ought to mention that Ye Olde Miser is still an old bastard of a miser, who is neither getting any younger nor acting any less slavishly his accustomed role.
You catch that, Papa? Your accustomed... Ohhh, I kill myself.
Caught the kid wandering out on the beach again, and in the middle of the night. Tried to talk some sense into him, and when that didn't work, I went for the whiskey angle (Papa's best, courtesy of my favorite faulty lock). That did something, anyway, though I'm not sure it got the point across. With lungs like his, he's got to cut that kind of act.
Hell, someone's got to take care of that kid.