ME: Oh no.
GRAMMY: What?
ME: A deer is eating the nose off Julius’ snowman. And here he comes, running straight for the door.
GRAMMY: I don’t hear him screaming like he usually does.
ME: Well, Typhus is out there with him. Poor little thing, he's probably holding it all inside. But the minute he gets through the door . . . .
GRAMMY: I’ll go get my earplugs.
ME: Wait a minute, Grammy. He’s going back.
GRAMMY: You’re kidding me.
ME: No. He’s going back. And he has something in his hand.
GRAMMY: Move over. Let me see.
ME: Easy, Grammy. You almost knocked me down.
GRAMMY: Oh, stop your whining. No wonder the boy gets upset so easily. Must get it from you.
ME: What’s Typhus giving him?
GRAMMY: Damned if I know. Looks like a chunk of ice. And he’s putting it in . . . well, I’ll be . . . .
ME: What, Grammy? What’s he do . . . Oh my goodness!
THUNK!
GRAMMY: Unbelievable. The boy’s used that slingshot exactly twice and he’s hit his mark each time.
ME: But the deer . . . it’s . . . .
GRAMMY: Venison. You know, with an aim like that, we may never have to buy meat again.
Photo: Fresh99
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