Earlier, one of the ladies here was talking about her dog Henry.
“Henry has some sort of worm. We’ve been giving him medicine for it; apparently it’s because he eats mice,” Cheryl said to Barb.
My back was to her, and I laughed quietly to myself, pretending she was talking about my Henry, imagining Henry with a limp Mickey clamped between his teeth and worms writhing out his asshole.
“Does Henry eat poop, too?” Barb asked, completely serious.
Now I’m sitting there, picturing Henry ferally hunched over in the backyard, shoveling his own piping hot feces in his mouth like it’s help yourself night at the Soup Kitchen, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud while Cheryl was so obviously speaking about her dog in concerned tones.
Also, in my fantasy, Henry is wearing his SERVICE CLOTHES and rocking out bitchin’ingly to Judas Priest. A framed picture of the original Swedish Pippi Longstocking is in the background, slightly out of focus, but sharp enough to scare away bystanders with her gingerosity.
Thank you for joining me for this fun jaunt back to 5th grade.