Yeah, like, so what the expression when it HAPPENS REALLY?
Friday night ‘round 4:30am Mom n Dad both woke up cuz the
lump was cryin’ on her lump monitor. (JEEZ! If you thirsty just get yo ass up n
take a drink from the water bowl that’s what I do what the big deal I don’t get
it.) Dad was like, “Should we bring her to bed with us?” and Mom was like “No I
don’t –“ But then she stop talking (crazy, right?) cuz Dad be like, “Oh my god!
Oh my GOD! OH MY GOD!” Dad turn on da light and there be a huge half rolled-in
pile of chesturds next to the scared (I’d say shitless but I more clever than
that) Chesturd.
Now Stella don’t wanna be poo crude (like too crude but with
poo) but the stink logs little white face left in the bed wasn’t like the dried
up kind he left on TOP of the bed earlier this week. (Ahem.) These was, like, humid.
It was like a whole chocolate mousse cake got rubbed into the sheets but it
wasn’t cake.
Mom n Dad stripped the shit sheets and threw Chesdrrrr out
of the room, and Mom was ranting ‘bout bein’ “SO OVER THIS DOG!” (even though
it wasn’t her who had been “over” it, it was Dad, get it?). When she finally
stop screamin and stompin’ around she telled Dad, “I think the lesson to be
learned is that this bad word dog needs to be walked until he bad word craps
every bad word single time. Even if I’m late for work or bad word exhausted or
whatever.” But Dad didn’t hear it cuz he was in the shower washing poop off his
back.
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