Da Bomb


<>Thursday is chore day at our house. It’s Mary’s job to pick up the garbage upstairs, and Hannah’s job to pick up the dog poop. I gather the garbage downstairs, and Carl bags it up in the garage because Friday is garbage day in our town and the garbage guys come pretty early in the morning. However, today was a little different. Hannah was complaining of an aching shoulder (which she claimed she injured skiing) so I gave her a choice: suffer through the pain and get the poochie bombs, or pay Mom a dollar to do it. Hannah reluctantly stomped upstairs to her room, got a dollar, and paid me. So out I went into the cold and snow, and did Hannah’s chore. I don’t know what’s worse: stinky, rotting poochie bombs in the hot summer, or frozen poochie bombs stuck to the ground in winter. Neither is pleasant. <>

And speaking of this unpleasant subject, did you hear about the seeing eye dog who, after a halftime presentation at an Orlando basketball game, made a “presentation” of her own right on the court? No one noticed until the players came back out and found the mound. According to Dennis Miller (sage and comedian) the fans were really disappointed: they’d come to see the Magic, not the Nuggets. (HA!) [Note to my brother Bob – the Greasiwype Mime Company plans to hire this dog for their next world tour.]

Well, I guess I better finish this so I can go out and feed the dog his supper. Gotta have some chore for Hannah to do next week after her shoulder heals.


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