Friday, April 21, 2006

A Falling Out

I have decided to visit Mrs Cribbage no more. Frankly, her grasp of personal hygeine is so abysmal that a rancid stench constantly permeates her entire house and nauseates me. She is sullen and slothful, never deigning to speak to me regardless of how friendly I pretend to be, and never shifting her lazy body at all between visits. Furthermore, she has detachable limbs that she leaves around the lounge for her dog to chew upon, which is terrible mistreatment - a dog requires Pedigree Chum or Bounce Superchunks for a healthy coat. Mrs Cribbage's character-defects try my patience and make a mockery of my good nature, so I shall no longer waste my time with the old dame and her fat dog.

Before I left, she implied via silence and rigidity that I should help myself to all of her higher-denomination banknotes, which helped someway towards my forgiving her.

I decided that I should not spend this money unwisely because I have only just recouped my losses on the poetry book debacle. So I have purcased 3 dozen Princess Diana collectible plates. They will come in handy should I acquire food in the future.

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