What the Hell Are You Doing?

jon shawell ite was the summer of 19 89 in sunny ipswich, and a bunch of us headed to the local park for a game of football. As i dived to my left towards the goal post, i realized that the collection of long grass around the bottom of the post was still wet from the morning dew. I took off my gloves to run my hands through the grass, gathering as much of the cool, refreshing moisture as i could then rub it over my forehead and through my hair,. My friends suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked at me in horror. One of them said, what the hell are you doing? I replied, just cooling myself