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I know, I know. It’s the weekend and I should be restesing. I dreamed last night I had a pet squirrel named Death from Above. He rode around town in my convertible with me, clinging to the headrest. Poor Death from Above. His sense of territorial propriety was so distorted by his lifestyle that he would leap out of the car and attack any squirrel he saw, on the grounds it was poaching his turf.

That there squirrel is Larry. I raised him and his brothers on cream and Esbilac and they grew into fine strapping big lads. But that’s another story for another day. Today, my real estate agent is holding an open house Chez Weasel and I have to make myself scarce. So here I am, gone.

I’d probably have better luck buying a lottery ticket.

September 21, 2008 — 8:27 am
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