Monday, July 20, 2009

We're Under Attack

Brookster didn't do it.  She wasn't that hungry.  Shelley is too squeamish.  Cordell?  He's too picky about what he eats.  Molly would be crying from the cactus spines in her nose.  Besides, she doesn't roam around in the front yard.  I can only assume that we are under attack from some giant flesh eating, desert dwelling monster that has started with the golden barrel in the front yard as an appetizer.  What to do, what to do.  

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