A Mule Eating Garlic.

4.2.2k9

I told several of you that I'd let you know how my sentinel chickens worked out. It was great, for a while. The little gals would let me know when the UPS guy was coming and whether he carried a package that needed a signature, so I could scoot home in time to meet him. They alerted me that the sprinklers were fixin' to come on and I dashed out to snag my solar hotdog cooker so it didn't get soaked and rust. They also got pretty good about knowing when Ez was going to burp just air opposed to spitting up his chow. They were great. I highly recommend you try them.

Problem, and I have to admit it, is that we live next door to gypsies. How could living next door to gypsies be a problem, you ask? Up till recently, I'd have been unable to tell you one good reason why it would be a problem living next door to gypsies, but now I can give you one. They "ate" several of my sentinel chickens. I wheeled up to the apartment and smelled delicious cooking meat - as one usually does when one lives next door to gypsies - but I became alarmed when only part of my flock flocked to me. "055," ""147" and "Beth" didn't come. I thought they were angry with me for chastising them when they didn't alert me that the parking jerks were coming to tow the boat of filth (so I could watch and cheer), but that wasn't it. No, they were on their way to lining the stomachs of our gypsy neighbors.

So I had to turn them back in. I told the service a marmot got in their cage and smoked a couple of them. All in all, though, they were great. Ez and I loved them. My little wife? Not so much. She only liked "Beth."

Tonight - Club Deluxe.


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!