I am not making this up. A friend of mine, who will remain anonymous, recently remarked that he can't cook. His wife is in the hospital. "I am eating sandwiches and dog food," he told me.
I shot him a look to study his face to try to determine if he was lying, joking, or telling me the truth. My conclusion was that he was being honest with me. He is not much of a jokester and generally he's a straight shooter.
"What kind of dog food?" I asked.
"Sweet Sue. It makes my dog sick, but I like it. It tastes real good."
Usually when I leave this guy's company, I am either pissed off, shaking my head in disbelief, or laughing hysterically. Guess which one this time. Yeah. By the time I got home, my abdominal muscles were already saying enough. I laughed so much so hard that I couldn't take it anymore.
My wife said he was pulling my leg. I think he was not. Either that or he wants someone to cook him something she suggested. That one I can believe, and maybe I should do something in that regard for him. If school will ever slow down, I will buy him some chicken. Or some dog food. His poor pooch is probably hungry.
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