of yachts and sunhats

Max flinches and tries to get out of Charles’ grasp but it is futile. He is sunburnt to put it politely and Charles is determined to get the big floppy sun hat on his head and it just hurts to fob him off. Hell, sunburnt would be manageable, itchy, but acceptable. Max feels like he has been put in the oven and left for hours past the time he should have been. Again, Charles goes to shove the big floppy hat on Max and he dodges. Why can’t Charles just slather him in chamomile and leave him to die like Max does for him? Why do they still have to go out to dinner when there is a perfectly good delivery place that will come to the docks and let them eat on the yacht? Not that Max is particularly fond of Charles’ new yacht as its stupid sundeck is why his back now resembles Charles’ car.“Charles! Fuck off, “Max grumbles, “Your hat is very ugly and I do not want to wear it!”“It is your own fault that you need it! And nothing I buy is ugly. You just have no taste!”