No one in the Happy House of Fatty and Bumpus gets called by his/her/its proper name unless the hand of God's wrath is about to land a print on the smooth peachy hills of Bootyville. Remember that as you wonder how many children (2), dogs (1), cats (2) and husbands (1) I have.
Now, on to our story:
Since our cute little 6 pound puppy now weighs over 27 pounds and since he is still less than half way grown and since his body is one large muscle mass, he shall now and forever be knighted as Nelson the Pot Roast. Sometimes he is just "Fat Burger," depending on the mood around here. My boys, sometimes known as Huck and Tom (keep reading) and sometimes known as Boudreaux and Rufus (when I can spell good), inquired as to what purpose Ham Chunk's nipples may serve. I explained that they were just for decoration, that otherwise his chest would look too plain, so that God put ‘em on there sort of like the rivets on the naw-guh-hide couch we inherited from Aunt Linda, God rest her soul…but that no matter what good decorations they are, no piercings are allowed until you are paying your own rent. Ain't that right, Mama?
Chapter 3 brings us to the third stop on our "East Texas Witness Protection Tour." This picture is what you get when you mix one state park, one spring day, one clear running stream with only a few amoebas doing their best dis-en-terry disco, one Huckleberry, one Tom "Well Duh!" Sawyer, and one dog who thinks that if he's quick enough he can actually eat the bubbling rapids. They were, however, far tastier--both for he who licks and for he who is licked by the licker--than the grease trap he went rootin' in earlier.
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