Here's an even quicker, even sadder follow-up to the quick, sad little note I left up on Sunday.
Coming home from the chiropractor on Monday night, as we crossed the La Palma overpass above the 91, there was #6.
I don't mean "#6" as in, "Did you go number 1 or 2?," because, if you did go #6 in the bathroom, it would have to be something like Cthuhlu his own self crawling out of your ass or an earth-shaking event rivaling such an occurrence. (#3, I must remind all of you (though not the Sifl 'n Olly fans out there), should not be spoken of -- it's far too embarrassing, don't make me say it -- alright, it's shaving...)
No, this #6 was the sixth dead opossum in the disgusting collection that my eyes have taken in since moving to California. Nearly as soon as I had posted my theories on their magically deceased presence in this locality, another one shows up. If you have read the comment on the last post, you will know that Chewy believes our pal Damien is the cause. Damien does have ties to a certain organization that shall remain hinted at but nameless -- and that doesn't really exist, dammit, pass the ziti please -- and the hidden inclusion of his name in the post was intentional, as he has always been a prime suspect. (He is on the short list, along with Naomi Campbell.)
But I don't really believe it is Damien. That is far too obvious. Besides, Damien is far too cheap to fly down here on such short notice -- I write about it on Sunday, another one dies on Monday? There's no way he is going to purposefully pay for that sort of airfare. He's also too cheap to hire out for a job like this, and I also sincerely doubt his connections have any sort of pull down here, where the Italian restaurants are not only not run by Italians, they're not even run by Greeks. (The Chinese restaurants, on the other hand, remain in the iron grip of the Koreans.) No, it can't be Damien.
Which, again, is exactly what they want me to think. When, not "if," I run into #7, I don't know how I will be able to handle that. Maybe it would be better if Cthuhlu did crawl out of my ass...
Coming home from the chiropractor on Monday night, as we crossed the La Palma overpass above the 91, there was #6.
I don't mean "#6" as in, "Did you go number 1 or 2?," because, if you did go #6 in the bathroom, it would have to be something like Cthuhlu his own self crawling out of your ass or an earth-shaking event rivaling such an occurrence. (#3, I must remind all of you (though not the Sifl 'n Olly fans out there), should not be spoken of -- it's far too embarrassing, don't make me say it -- alright, it's shaving...)
No, this #6 was the sixth dead opossum in the disgusting collection that my eyes have taken in since moving to California. Nearly as soon as I had posted my theories on their magically deceased presence in this locality, another one shows up. If you have read the comment on the last post, you will know that Chewy believes our pal Damien is the cause. Damien does have ties to a certain organization that shall remain hinted at but nameless -- and that doesn't really exist, dammit, pass the ziti please -- and the hidden inclusion of his name in the post was intentional, as he has always been a prime suspect. (He is on the short list, along with Naomi Campbell.)
But I don't really believe it is Damien. That is far too obvious. Besides, Damien is far too cheap to fly down here on such short notice -- I write about it on Sunday, another one dies on Monday? There's no way he is going to purposefully pay for that sort of airfare. He's also too cheap to hire out for a job like this, and I also sincerely doubt his connections have any sort of pull down here, where the Italian restaurants are not only not run by Italians, they're not even run by Greeks. (The Chinese restaurants, on the other hand, remain in the iron grip of the Koreans.) No, it can't be Damien.
Which, again, is exactly what they want me to think. When, not "if," I run into #7, I don't know how I will be able to handle that. Maybe it would be better if Cthuhlu did crawl out of my ass...
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