He had the poor cat buried in the kitty litter box.
I saw him.
He had kitty poop and litter spread all over his body and the poor kitty was struggling to get away.
I saw him.
I yelled, but he wouldn't stop, so I started smacking him on the head.
Then I woke up.
No more morphine, vicodine, or codeine for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love appropriate comments. Comments that contain coarse or vulgar language will be rejected. You may rephrase the comment and try again.