I shouldn’t have a pet.
This morning I ate my breakfast standing up to keep Elvis from putting his hands in my eggs. When I sat at my computer he kept walking on the keys while I tried to write. To add insult to injury, then he knocked over my glass of water so it went all over my desk.
I wouldn’t be able to write now except he’s across the room staring at Rupert.
Liz and David decided to have a talk with me about all this.
Liz made me promise to keep Elvis off the dining room table. David naturally took this thought and ran with it saying that the bare minimum of civility is to keep your pets off the table. Then, never missing an opening to spew his hatred, he went on to name all the ethnic groups that, low as they are, EVEN THEY, wouldn’t let a cat on the table.
It was then that Liz (who I must remind you that since that shooting incident I believe has been somewhat tarnished by this relationship) said ” at least not uncooked”.
Once he realized that Lizzie wasn’t going to jump on him for the racist shit, David then decided he had a clear path to finish the conversation with a description of his cab driver last night who added an extra minute to his trip by taking the Midtown Tunnel instead of the 59th Street Bridge. Do I have to tell you that english wasn’t this guys first language?
David actually said “That would never happen in London”. Which had what to do with the conversation? I can only assume that in England the cabbies are all graduates of Sandhurst.
I’d better finish this off because Elvis looks as if he’s getting tired of climbing my curtains. He may be thinking of dancing on the keyboard again.
Nope, it’s my head.