4thn'.

Not pictured includes beers in a hot tub like a beer commercial, a trampoline on the lake, a jet boat ride that left the "fatties in the front" soaked. Not audible includes the song-a-thons of Friday night, when the drunken stars aligned and we danced around the fire chanting "Lord-of-the-Flies! Lord-of-the-Flies! Pig-gy Pig-gy! Dead pilot! Dead pilot!" And later "vag-vag-vag-vag-vag" while the women drank, and even later, all of us, singing Lisa Loeb and "Life is a Highway" at the top of our lungs, and even later the speculations of MJ's COD, which include him drowning in a swimming pool full of peeps.

Friday night, when the stars aligned and Jenny, Mary, and I created the story of Meatloaf's son, named Sean Loaf. Sean Michael Loaf, to be specific. He's a loaf of bread who solves crime, but he's the private agent type of crime-solver. He's Bond-like, but more undercover. For example, you could imagine an enemy throwing a mod party and Sean Loaf hiding at a table without his bow tie. But then, when it is suddenly time to get serious, Sean Loaf puts the bow tie on, and it's the equivalent of Clark Kent taking his glasses off and going Superman on your ass.

His arch nemesis is a toaster with a bad guy mustache.

Sean Loaf. Meatloaf's his dad. Danger's his game.