Miz Poo versus the Intel Man
“Hey.. what the hell is this on my monitor?”
“The smell of him drives me crrrrrrrazy!”
“Mom, what’s the deal? Why’s this guy hanging out in my space? Why do I feel like I must kick his ass?”
“Right there… I’m going to smack him right there and see what happens.”
“I have kicked his ass, but still it smells like him up here…”
“I think I’ll just hang out and clean myself… Wha? You again? Hey, you’re laying on my sock. That’s MY sock!”
“I’ll teach you to mess with my sock, you bastard!”
“And THIS is another place you don’t want to be, buddy! This is MY bag, mine! Not yours, mine. Keep your mitts off, mister!”
The victor, by a Paw O’ Doom: Miz Poo.
(this time around, at least…)
(Two days later, check out who’s stalking Miz Poo as she lays unsuspecting, enjoying the sun…)]]>
2003-07-03