He sure looks comfortable nestled in with my dirty socks and boxers. I do not know what it is about the toejam and taint aroma that appeals to him so much. Then again, this is the same little dumbass who like to roll around in dead muskrat.
The other day, I had to chase the stupid mother fucker up the river bed, pulling my big white plumber's butt up and over my neighbor's wire fence via a handy slanted tree trunk, then stomping through a shitton of pickers and brambles, totally fucking up my good pair of jogging pants, to find him rolling gleefully in a pile of stinky remains of one one the world's most stink-assiest of creatures.
Climbing back through the brambles and pickers and back up over the stupid wire fence via the slippery tree trunk whilst holding the stinky little bastard under one arm like some big loaf of turd bread was not the most pleasant experience.
It must have shown on my face, because the little stinky fucker did his best to be a "good boy" as I hosed him off with whatever soaps and tinctures I could get my hands on. All the yelling and cursing I was doing probably also had something to do with the injured shivering baby seal look of his in the doggy torture chamber that is also known as a bathtub. Some of what I said was out of worry for him, being so close to the river and all, but most of the profanity that came out of me was out of anger for having to deal with his stinky dumb ass.
My house still smells like mother fucking muskrat.
Apparently, not enough for him though, needing a pile of my dirty underthings to remind him of that one single moment of splendor that he got from rolling around on some dead animal's carcass.
Shit, i really need to do my laundry.
No comments:
Post a Comment