When I left Proof and Grunt in charge of this
blog so I could join friends in celebrating Thanksgiving I
expected some mischief. The keys to
the liquor cabinet, as usual, were handed over to Proof. Where there’s imbibing in spirits there’s
usually some degree of misbehavior.
I never
imagined that Proof would deface one of the curvaceous lovelies that are posted
here each Monday by
drawing a bunny face on her derriere nor did I envision that Grunt would
parody the regular feature “Flowing Curves of Beauty” with
cheesy jokes about a bogus “War of the Sexes.”
But the thing
that really chapped my ass was when Grunt decided to smear my good name by
posting a
totally ludicrous fairy tale involving me and an incident of road
rage. The admission by Grunt that he and
Proof were too drunk to vouch for me to the cops is all the evidence one needs to
discern that these guys are full of it.
Who do they think they are anyway?
Barney Fife and Columbo?
I was nowhere
near New Smyrna Beach, FL. I was in the
Great State of South Carolina and the vehicle involved was not an SUV. It was an effing Prius with Tiger Paw decals
and Clemson car flags flapping in the wind.
Apparently the guy has delusions of grandeur that Clemson has a chance
in hell of becoming college football’s National Champions. The driver of the Prius exchanged middle finger salutes with me traveling at a high rate of speed. So engrossed was he that he ran off the road
hitting a peach stand. He was cited for reckless
driving and damage to personal property.
Sophie the
Wonderdog and I continued our travels laughing all the way as the owner of the
peach stand was last seen pummeling the driver with her purse. Dumb Clemson fan. But I digress…
When I
returned from my trip, I entered Casa de Curmudgeon to find the usual beer cans
and broken beer mugs littering the floor and squirrel poop everywhere. This time however, there were bullet holes in
the wall where these two sophomores were using my Hümmel figurines for target
practice. Just look at what they
did. There are 15 bullet holes in the
wall and four of the figurines had their little heads shot off. I also left clear instructions not to
make grilled cheese sammiches in the waffle maker. Did they listen? No. No they didn’t.
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