Well the Mrs., wasn't going to use the butcher knife she was going to use a pair of pliers and twist off his gonads.
Mac Duff was chewing on an antique quilt because she stopped scratching his chest ... spoiled brat.
He knew his ass was grass when she said it because he tucked in tight and flew toward the corner where his bed was as I was entering the room only to turn to come to me and cold-cocked himself on the table leg by his bed.
Don't know what he was thinking ... it was a quilt my grandmother had made ... that I would protect his jewels?!
He still has a dumb look on his face and every so often he shakes his head like there are still a few cobwebs in there from the table leg meeting he had ... serves him right, it does.
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