The other night Brad and Julie had a rotisserie chicken for dinner. They gave me a few bites, but instead of satisfying me, it made me hunger for more. It was all I could think about. That chicken was my heroine. My mind was reeling on how to go about getting more of it. To Brad and Julie, I may have looked like I was napping, but I was truly scheming, planning, and devising a mental plan.
Soon the moment of attack came. The kitchen was clean. Brad was in the office. Julie was in the laundry room. The garbage can stood like a beacon of hope to my hungry stomach. All I wanted was in that can.
Using my stealth-like ninja skills I silently made my way to the can. My heart was racing. Orange Effer be damned if he made his way by at this very moment. I would just have to write an IOU to deal with his sorry presence later.
Then it all went wrong. Hopelessly wrong. As I opened the lid, the can came crashing to the floor in an explosion of all the hopes I had blowing up in my handsome mug. Faster than Orange Effer can hop a fence, Julie came racing around the corner to grab the chicken leg out of my mouth. I swallowed it whole.
The past 72 hours have been, shall we say, tense around here, but I Howard am here to tell you that I have the guts of a billy goat. Thank God, because Brad and Julie cannot afford more than two surgeries in a year with this economy.
Soon the moment of attack came. The kitchen was clean. Brad was in the office. Julie was in the laundry room. The garbage can stood like a beacon of hope to my hungry stomach. All I wanted was in that can.
Using my stealth-like ninja skills I silently made my way to the can. My heart was racing. Orange Effer be damned if he made his way by at this very moment. I would just have to write an IOU to deal with his sorry presence later.
Then it all went wrong. Hopelessly wrong. As I opened the lid, the can came crashing to the floor in an explosion of all the hopes I had blowing up in my handsome mug. Faster than Orange Effer can hop a fence, Julie came racing around the corner to grab the chicken leg out of my mouth. I swallowed it whole.
The past 72 hours have been, shall we say, tense around here, but I Howard am here to tell you that I have the guts of a billy goat. Thank God, because Brad and Julie cannot afford more than two surgeries in a year with this economy.
1 comment:
imagine the irresistible scents coming out of that garbage can, odorous ecstasy...beckoning those with the nerve of a bandit...a bone is better than nothing...
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