Salmon would probably agree with the rush hour traffic.
Tuning in to a good read or setting up digital horse shoes?
Drug screening your gardner may not be a good idea.
So we were somehow legit again.
Freag'n revolutionaries who would teach them all a lesson as soon as we figured out who they were.
Was I missing something?
Apperantly the Sherrif had been alerted to some kind of a wild animal sighting that he had to respond to out by the Overbee place. Luckily it was after dark and he did not get a chance to travel around with a spotlight to put the Pastor's wife at ease. She had called the station frantically telling the tale of a strange colored giant bird that had attacked her. The officer could only grin and take her word for what was going on and later would express to the Cowboy that he suspected she had been hitting the cough syrup again.
Of course I got the call about Pinky within minutes of that conversation taking place and made my way back to the tank we had used as a sanctuary for Pinky so many weeks ago. It seemed that he had lost interest in his surroundings and decided to stop by the Pastor's land for a little quality time with his domesticated turkeys. That Pink horny bastard had apparently injured a few of the birds in his quest for affection.
All I could do is hope that he would be enticed by the plastic lawn ornament I had brought with me and we could move him to a more secure location. So I sat there in the truck with the plastic Flamingo in the passenger seat with the door open waiting. Pinky came into the clearing just to the West of the tank to see if we had brought the usual brine shrimp treats for him when he spotted his next target and rushed at the truck doing his usual pre-game-I-am-gonna-get-some dance. Something was different about him. He seemed more aggressive. Maybe the turkey tale had toughened him up. The Feathered menace started squawking at me and flapping his crazy wings in an obvious show of force. I started laughing and was met with a wicked wake-up call. Pinky jumped into the truck and started snapping and pecking at me in what I can only describe as a the-girl-is-mine ambush. I opened my door and rolled out of the truck kicking the door shut when I hit the ground. Pinky somehow managed to shut the door on the passenger side with his feet.
So there I was.
Sitting in the bed of my own truck while Pinky and the plastic playmate made the beast with two backs.
What could I do?
I opened the tool box / ice chest and commenced to hydrate and text my fellow revolutionaries on my progress. Pinky was in no way bashful and was having his way with the oil-based friend he had made. I toasted to their health and waited for the crew.
A few hours later the BBQ was in full effect and the same Peace keeper that had tipped us off to the situation was greedily pumping the keg as he was now off duty. Pinky had humped himself into a post-nookie slumber, the fajitas were on the grill, and I sat both triumphant and concerned with my capture and pending relocation of my hormonal, feathered companion...
Lotioning your hands at the beginning of the work day at your desk = cool
Lotioning your feet at the beginning of the work day at your desk = not cool
My popcorn is mine and you should really get your own...
Do garden gnomes appreciate being compared to persons that will not leave at the end of a party?
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