Arr, me hearty!
Ahoy!
When I be looking for booty in me backyard tortuous creek (me creek o' death, as it be), lo and behold, what think ye, matey, that I stumble upon with me sprogs?
Nay, not a mermaid, ye superstitious scallywag!
Arr, it be a manatee.
In me backyard.
Now it be true that I did reassemble its bones just a titch, but merely a titch.
Arrrrr!!!
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4 comments:
How come my reaction to my daughters telling me that they have found dead animals in our creek is to say "Ewww! Everyone wash your hands and do not return to the creek until it is gone!!" and Mike's reaction is "Cool! Let me poke it with a stick and pull it apart and flick "meat" everywhere and then rearrange it and then photograph it extensively." I'm pretty sure one of those reactions is a survival instinct and one of those is the equivalent of walking the survival plank into the ocean of agonizing death by contamination.
Let me simply make one point here:
That.
Ain't.
No manatee.
Cause what it is, is,
el Chupacabra.
Query:
If Mike and Andy went out in a field together, far out in the woods, and talked about random nonsense for awhile, and eventually died out there. Would anyone notice?
And if they did, would they post a comment on his blog?
(chirp, chirp, chirp.....)
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