Brief post this morning. C.W. has gone missing. No reason for alarm, or joy, or relief. I suspect he is with my wife. Almost certainly.
Now don’t let your imagination run wild. I may be guilty of having mislead you in the past. I may have implied that C.W. and my wife may never get along too well. That’s not exactly true. He does annoy her at times, but she is not above using him for escort services when I’m not available.
Not that kind of escort services.
It’s this way. My wife likes to screw with the heads of people in Arkansas. It’s her way of getting back at them for electing the two people we have to call our Senators these days. It may be a little cruel, but, if it brings her joy, I’ll not deny her the pleasure.
Besides, said senators are a couple of reprehensible lemmings. But that’s for another day.
Today, just let me explain that her periodic urges for fellowship have to do with C.W.’s ability to shift shapes at will. And if he is in trouble for some malfeasance or other, he’ll agree to do it for her.
Here’s the deal and how it includes C.W. Let’s just say that he's not above shaping to please, and
|This shape pains me considerably.|
But I'll do it for Mrs. Big Dope. - C.W.
- She would walk into any sleazy bar in the South with Billy Gibbons, and
- She would walk through Times Square in New York City with her head held high if Matthew McConaughey walked by her side.
So, I’m not sure where either my wife or C.W. are this morning, but if you see a cute little number walking through your local Walmart alongside Harrison Ford, just nod and walk on by.