Destinee
Tango. Foxtrot. Tango.
I am a lazy lump of flesh, today. The bed held me captive until approximately 11am. My escape was valiant. Fox News would have been proud. They probably would have broken into my room, cameras blazing and reporters moaning in pleasure, just in time to see my near naked body blink and roll towards the light. My only regret is that I didn't wrap my tossed-aside shirt around my shoulders and dance around with my fists in the air, a-la Rocky. Yo...media!
Being master of the house does carry with it special privileges. I walk around in my boxers. I leave uncertain messes and holes in candy bags. The denizens of my domain must note my presence during times of my absence. I fully expect letters of adulations when I come home in the evening. (Jon! Clean up your fucking mess. Love, your loyal subjects).
Only the dog is not impressed with my royal demeanor. I have attempted to scare it into submission, but my threats to boil its bones and flay its toenails off are met with a gape mouth and blank, puppy stares. It even had the nerve to bark until I consented to open the back door. I believe a coup is imminent. The threat must be met head on, otherwise I shall be forced to belly up and accept the mongrel as a new king.
The queen demands my attention. I'm off to get dressed and prepare for a meeting of faces. (Kissy kissy).
I am a lazy lump of flesh, today. The bed held me captive until approximately 11am. My escape was valiant. Fox News would have been proud. They probably would have broken into my room, cameras blazing and reporters moaning in pleasure, just in time to see my near naked body blink and roll towards the light. My only regret is that I didn't wrap my tossed-aside shirt around my shoulders and dance around with my fists in the air, a-la Rocky. Yo...media!
Being master of the house does carry with it special privileges. I walk around in my boxers. I leave uncertain messes and holes in candy bags. The denizens of my domain must note my presence during times of my absence. I fully expect letters of adulations when I come home in the evening. (Jon! Clean up your fucking mess. Love, your loyal subjects).
Only the dog is not impressed with my royal demeanor. I have attempted to scare it into submission, but my threats to boil its bones and flay its toenails off are met with a gape mouth and blank, puppy stares. It even had the nerve to bark until I consented to open the back door. I believe a coup is imminent. The threat must be met head on, otherwise I shall be forced to belly up and accept the mongrel as a new king.
The queen demands my attention. I'm off to get dressed and prepare for a meeting of faces. (Kissy kissy).
posted by Jon at 11:56 AM
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