Fridays With Freddy
This morning, the man in the brown shirt delivered two items to my attention, neither of which were meant to be eaten, and both of which tasted delicious.
The first was an unlikely assortment of brightly colored underpants with a keyring looped through the waistband. Why the people at Jockey would favor me with such a token is beyond my understanding. I was very clear in a prior post that underpants were NOT a part of my sartorial regimen.
Even if th
ey were, these diminutive garments are clearly too petite to fit over my muscular thighs, and woefully insufficient to contain that which must be contained. Moreover, the keyring is a touch insensitive. As you may know, the fascists who run this state discriminate shamelessly against all quadrupeds, and until something is done to confront Canine Bias head on, I fear my dream of operating a motor vehicle will remain exactly that.
Secondly, somebody called Sharon Reed made me a quilt. I’ve never had a quilt before, and frankly, I’m not sure what to do with it. Do I hang it, or do I wrap myself in it’s warm embrace like a self-absorbed burrito in a personalized tortilla? I hate to choose between form and function, especially with folk art, but there’s a constant draft in this tenement, and a quilt of this quality would go a long way in taking the edge off. Either way, the likeness is undeniable, and I am much obliged to Sharon. Thank you dear. I’ll try not to pee on it.
Freddy
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