The grass god
February 18th 2012 06:26
Daisy: Every time we go to the dog park and you play chase the ball with Little Boss, you get a mouth full of grass.
Larry: Oh, the sublime thrill of the chase, and the balletic grace with which I execute it.
Daisy: It makes you wonder how often they mow the grass. Looks like every five minutes, given the amount your slobber-coated ball collects and transfers to your tongue.
Larry: I think I spotted an eagle this morning, hovering on high, be-thermalled, watching in awe as I streaked after the ball, swooped and gathered …
Daisy: It looks ridiculous.
Larry: Me chasing a ball looks ridiculous? Now just a minute …
Daisy: No, your tongue looks ridiculous, covered in grass.
Larry: Tongue? Grass?
Daisy: Have you heard one word of what I’ve been saying?
Larry: Somewhere there is a ball-chasing Hall of Fame. My name’s probably come up in early-candidacy discussions.
Larry: Oh, the sublime thrill of the chase, and the balletic grace with which I execute it.
Daisy: It makes you wonder how often they mow the grass. Looks like every five minutes, given the amount your slobber-coated ball collects and transfers to your tongue.
Larry: I think I spotted an eagle this morning, hovering on high, be-thermalled, watching in awe as I streaked after the ball, swooped and gathered …
Daisy: It looks ridiculous.
Larry: Me chasing a ball looks ridiculous? Now just a minute …
Daisy: No, your tongue looks ridiculous, covered in grass.
Larry: Tongue? Grass?
Daisy: Have you heard one word of what I’ve been saying?
Larry: Somewhere there is a ball-chasing Hall of Fame. My name’s probably come up in early-candidacy discussions.
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