A Little Tipsy

 

Hey there, friends and neighbors. Let me tell you all a distressing, story. I recently escaped, unscathed, and unnerved from an awfully dangerous encounter. It was with an Australian Dingo, not a normal Australian Dingo, but an evil Dingo who also happened to be a Werewolf.

It all began when I was driving to work and stopped at a crosswalk to let an old bloke walk by. Then out of nowhere, this blow-in on a scooter behind me started hollering and gave me the middle finger! It was totally crazy, him sitting there on his little two wheeler, the first thing I noticed was that the bloke looked exactly like a rope-able ready to explode! I thought I might be hallucinating, but at the next light the jerk pulled up right next to me and I got a closer look. And I saw it was true. He looked exactly like a bloke in a nightmare. So I rolled down the window and said:

“Hey buddy, Lair it up and rack off? I was just being courteous by letting that bloke cross the street. It’s common courtesy so why don’t you just hop on your scooter, scurry over to a nice cliff and drop out of sight.?”

Then Australian Dingo Werewolf points and pulls over at the next corner. And, as yours truly never backs down from confrontations with Dingo’s and Werewolves, I followed suit and run off into the ditch…

So there we were, the Australian Dingo Werewolf barking his lungs out, and me, well, I kept telling him to get the hell off his scooter. But the bloke wouldn’t do it. This went on for a while, until finally I got tired and backed my car out of the ditch. But the whole incident caused an emotion explosion.

So, this afternoon I took my girlfriend to lunch with her miniature poodle at a cool outdoor restaurant. And guess who waited on us. That’s right! I swear! I’m positive! I mean, I’m pretty darn sure that it was the same Australian Dingo Werewolf ! I was staring in shock and could hardly believe my eyes and the Australian Dingo Werewolf pretended to not even recognize me! His whole expression was just blank. I started to panic, because I knew he wanted a pint of my blood.

It was a bad scene, and the chow downers were totally unaware of the danger. I emerged undamaged in the end, but my girl friends miniature poodle thought it was a little weird that I kept making them taste my ice tea. And there was an awkward silence when I told our Australian Dingo Werewolf I’d give him a venomous feed if he promised not to poison my lunch. Of course, that was before I tripped the sucker when he brought over our orders, I thought I made it look like an accident, but you know what? Now that I think about it, I’m wondering if it was actually even the same bloke. I mean, can Australian Dingo Werewolves even drive scooters? Do they know how to wait tables? I don’t think so!!

My doctor told me I better quit drinking rubbing and wood alcohol and drink coolaide and lemonaide instead.

Dear Wendy, Have I scared you away too. It looks like Pat and Jason are looking else where. Linda was here for awhile to make comments but now she’s gone. Lauren isn’t interested in browsing around. That just leaves you and me and my Australian Dingo Werewolf. Really Wendy I once had a Dingo. He was lovable but untrainable. I’d take him outside to do his business and all he would do is play. When I’d bring him inside he’d poop from one end of the house to the other and his poops stunk so bad the rest of us had to evacuate. I Love Ya Sweet Godess of Rhyme, BDC

P.S. I named my Dingo Freeway because I picked him up along side the freeway. That makes sense, doesn’t it?

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