Of course, he ruined the day with his kidney in its little red bucket. He dragged it all the way down from his bedroom, moving with the deliberately clomping feet. The kidney was still fresh, relatively speaking, so at least the smell hadn’t kicked in yet. He had blood all down his front, which we didn’t ask about, as history had told us it was better not to. So we just sat there, thinking up small talk while he stood, hugging the kidney bucket, grinning, licking his lips.