The carpet was a mess!
Popcorn, peanuts, crisps and poker chips littered the floor.
Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) lay under the coffee table with her head in a traffic cone.
"Oooooooh!", she echoed. "What'th wrong with my mouth?"
Sym stood with a dustpan and broom in his paws and looked down at her prone form.
"I did warn you that British beer is strong stuff", he said. "And you were the one that insisted on the Gin-sling chasers".
"Thomething ith wrong with my mouth! My tongue theemth to be thuck to the woof of my mouth".
"You were eating cellotape", replied Sym. "You said it was your 'party trick'"
"Thellotape? That'th jutht thupid! Ooooooooh! My back leg'th!!! I can't feel my back leg'th!"
"Well, when ... if ... you can get them out out of that Wellington boot, they'll be fine", said Sym as he swept up.
"Why?", demanded Liza. "Why are my back leg'th thuck in a Wellington boot?"
"You had a bet with Robin, that chihuahua you picked up in the bar, that you could hop around the room without falling out of the boot. You won the bet, but we couldn't get you out of the boot afterwards".
Liza gingerly removed the cone from her head. "Ooooh! That'th so muchth better"!
"Do you remember anything about last night?", asked Sym.
"Yeth, of courth I do. Before the poker game went to a lap danthing club ..."
"Because you said you could dance better that those girls".
" ... and then we ... ". Liza picked up a blue hat from the floor. "What'th thith?" she asked.
"Ah! Now that, dear kitty, is a policeman's helmet", Sym said as he took the helmet from her. "Do you, by any remote chance, remember how you got it?"
"Not tho mucth ... but I think it involved claw'th"
"Exactly! You clawed the living daylights out of that poor policeman's ankles, ran up his legs, ransacking his pockets on the way ... and yes! I did notice that you bought the Tequila with his credit card ... and you stole his helmet after giving him a big sloppy kiss".
"A kith! I don't do kitheth!"
"That is quite pothibly ... sorry ... possibly true, judging by the amount of blood coming from all those scratches on his face".
"Oh my God!" said Liza. "Pearl will never forgive me! Unleth, of course, I won the game latht night. Did I?"
"Nope! Freddy and Brutus, the Rottweiler's did ... "
"They've got your I.O.U. for over a hundred quid ".
Liza struggled out of the boot.
"Sthill, it wath a thuper night, wathn't it!"
About This Blog
This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!
The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.
I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.
Have a look here too http://symdaddy-humour.blogspot.com/
Or visit me at http://pinterest.com/symdaddy/