It was a long day spent immersed in conversation about bugs and drugs and I trudged home looking and feeling haggard. Having decided to drown my sorrows in sugar, I pulled out my last stock of strawberry ice cream. I walked away from it to put away my bag. I wondered if I should put it back in the fridge lest it melted/was attacked by a stray arthropod/spontaneously combusted. "Naah," I reasoned, "what could possibly go wrong."
The scene that awaited me when I walked into the kitchen would have put Jurrasic Park's velociraptors to shame. Alex, Ryan, and David were swarming over the modest remains of my would-be dessert with bloodied spoons (might have been fragments of strawberry).
They left none for me.
You guys suck! I hope it was filled with an exotic assortment of bacterial endotoxins.
The scene that awaited me when I walked into the kitchen would have put Jurrasic Park's velociraptors to shame. Alex, Ryan, and David were swarming over the modest remains of my would-be dessert with bloodied spoons (might have been fragments of strawberry).
They left none for me.
You guys suck! I hope it was filled with an exotic assortment of bacterial endotoxins.
This is particularly relevant because we also left "the Nay" alone for the weekend. He, however, was too occupied by his lifelong mistress to care.
ReplyDelete