Friday, September 4, 2009


ME: Doesn’t this rain feel nice, Grammy? It’s been such a long, hot summer.

GRAMMY: Nice, schmice. If you don’t get me out of this soon, I’ll melt away like the wicked witch of the west.

ME: The car’s just down the street, Grammy. We’re almost there.

GRAMMY: I shoulda stayed home. What the hell do I need a walk in the park for? I’m not a dog. I know how to use a toilet.

ME: Really, Grammy. It’s just a little rain. Do you have to complain about everything?

GRAMMY: As long as everything sucks, I do. And what are you so mad about? Hey! Where are you going?

ME: I’m sticking you in a tree. Get yourself down and you’ll be happy about something.

GRAMMY: ????? Well, at least I know she listens.

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