It's very difficult to see, but just barely to the right of the center table foot is a good-sized black spider. The Ham del Beelzebub tried for a good 10 minutes to (1) stick his face between the table legs but it did not fit, (2) paw at the spider, and (3) stretch his ginormous tongue around the table foot to kiss the cutesy pootsy hairy legged bag o' venom.
Like sands through the hour glass, I've been keeping rough count, and The Roast is now down into the single digits of brain cell ownership. Why do you ask? That entry will follow shortly.
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1 comment:
Looks like the Devil Dog has put himself in the pen-a-ten-shary for all the evil deeds he has done.
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