Where Ox-like Morons are Feeding

It was a lovely Christmas Day at the Badger house. She had been working in the kitchen since 4 am, preparing all of Badger’s holiday favorites; real cranberries, sliced directly from the can; tossed salad made of ham, cheese, pineapple, onions, cheerios and lime jello; deviled eggs with a deep fingerprint on the top of the filling on each, salsa with eggnog chasers, and for dessert–the pièce de résistance, in his opinion, since it isn’t served at that fancy all-you-can-eat for $7.99 Water Buffalo Buffet, so “it MUST be one of those ‘delicately’ things”–a serving bowl filled with crumbled fruitcake, frosted flakes, corn nuts and strawberry whipped cream from an aerosol can.
And this, my friends, was breakfast. 
She packed it all into a dozen old coffee cans and dragged it into the bedroom where Badger was recovering from a laceration to his face he received by running into the new clothesline she had put up in the backyard. It was a most unfortunate accident; one that may have been avoided if she hadn’t used 20 lb test fluorocarbon fish line. And if she had measured correctly, Badger may not have taken the full impact on his face. Next time, she thought, razor wire, four inches lower.
(To Be Continued)

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