Even the Mailman Phones Before Approaching My House
Like the idiot cat Garfield, I dislike Mondays, though Mondays are really my Thursdays, if I skip Wednesdays, or something along those lines. I work outside the home Saturday through Tuesday, in direct contravention of my conviction that women ought not work outside the home. I am telling you this because I trust you not to burglarize my home while I am at work.
Of course, it is possible that I cannot trust you. In that case, Achtung! Do not show up at my house while I am at work, as I've arranged to have all potential burglars shot, and though you are truly dear to me, you are nothing if not a potential burglar. I can't give you any more details. Stay safe.
p.s. After you are shot, a tiny boy will run out of the house and beat you with a shoe. Teach you a lesson, he will.
Of course, it is possible that I cannot trust you. In that case, Achtung! Do not show up at my house while I am at work, as I've arranged to have all potential burglars shot, and though you are truly dear to me, you are nothing if not a potential burglar. I can't give you any more details. Stay safe.
p.s. After you are shot, a tiny boy will run out of the house and beat you with a shoe. Teach you a lesson, he will.
2 Comments:
Esther. If Jim Davis weren't dead he would surely be mad at you. Garfield is not an idiot cat (anyone who likes-a lasagna cannot be an idiot). Rather, the idiot is Odie, the idiot dog. What? Jim Davis isn't dead? Well, I'd say you should be ashamed of yourself and this time do the job right.
XOXOXO
Misspent
Oh, I've tried. Here are the measures I've taken to bring about the demise of Jim Davis, along with the locations of the attempted murders:
Pushed him under falling masonry (Austin, TX)
Put wasps in his soft-shell taco (Tahoma, WA)
Hit him in the head with a turquoise-studded ox skull (Taos, NM)
Arranged banana peel on floor outside his bathroom (St. Paul, MN)
Pulled chair out as he sat down (Ann Arbor, MI)
Pushed him off cliff (Dubuque, IA)
Shoved face into retirement party cake (Kalispell, MT)
Attached scorpion to his thigh in an airplane (over Milwaukee, WI)
Tripped his horse (Fargo, ND)
Midnight Molotov cocktail in his RV (outside Branson, MO)
Cut his trapeze ropes (Duluth, MN)
Insulted his mother (Lake Forest, IL)
Locked him in cupboard with assorted household poisons (Sioux Falls, SD)
Stabbed him in lower back with Barbie doll comb (Tulsa, OK)
More attempts are in the works. As you can see, I am not lazy when it comes to killing Jim Davis. I am merely inept. But still I try. Oh, how I try.
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