NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?

NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?
NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?
Showing posts with label razors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label razors. Show all posts

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Saturday With Sir Poops-A-Lot: Mummsy’s Work

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Sir Poops-A-Lot

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Hair Ball

SPAL: I have no clue what to write about this morning.

HB: Thought you were going to tell me another story about Riley and Michael.

SPAL: I was. But, according to mummsy’s Kindle I’ve got eighty percent more to read.

HB: What’s taking you so long to finish?

SPAL: Mummsy’s work schedule this week. She’s been coming home exhausted. And, she’s been keeping her Kindle in her haircutting case.

HB: What’re they doing to her at this place called work?

SPAL: I’m not sure. All I know is she goes there so she can buy us food and treats. She also says it helps us keep our beds and our house.

HB: Do you think she’s torturing people?

SPAL: Why would you ask such a ridiculous question? Our mummsy torture people?

HB: Well, have you seen what she carries in her haircutting bag? She’s got scissors and razors and THE CLIPPERS. (He buries his head under his blankie) Isn’t that what they use on us…you know…at the place Of Many Great White Watery Abyss of Tortures.

SPAL: (He stares at Hair Ball. His mouth opens wide and gasps.) Oh! I never thought of that. But, what if it’s she the one being tortured? I mean sometimes she doesn’t look so good when she comes home. Remember the day she came home with her thumb all bandaged up?

HB: Wasn’t that the day she told us part of her thumb got sliced off by a razor?

SPAL: Yup. How about all the times she comes home telling us her toes and back are screaming? Even though we don’t hear a thing.

HB: There is such a thing as silent screams, you know. Heard about it on television one night with daddy-o.

SPAL: I think I’ve heard about that, too. Oh, and remember the night she came home crying because the palms of her hands hurt real bad. She couldn’t pick us up remember?

HB: Yeah. Maybe she’s the one being tortured. Awww…just so she can feed us and bring us toys and treats. Poor mummsy.

SPAL: I don’t think I like this place called work. Besides, it takes her away from us for long hours at a time. Eight and nine hours is too long. At least when she’s writing, we can lay at her feet.

HB: How are we going to stop her from going?

SPAL: Hmmm…(He puts his paw beneath his chin).

HB: How about we fake sick? It works on television. Some TV kid is always pretending to be sick. So, what’s the plan?

SPAL: We’ll stuff our faces while she’s in the shower. Then we’ll run up stairs real fast. Poo on the bathroom floor. You take one corner and I’ll take the other. Then we’ll throw up, fall in it, refusing to get up. 

HB: Do you think it’ll work?

SPAL: Let’s go find out.