Saturday Morning Trimwork

"Get up, Pony."

Why?

"'Cause I need to move this table."

Again, why?

"I'm starting the trim in the living room and I need you to move. Now, please."

Damnit, Poxxy! I just got comfortable.

"Pony, ya've been lying in that exact spot for two hours. Now git up and get outta here. I've got a lot to do."

And what am I supposed to do while you're making all this racket? You know Saturday is my day to relax and just lay around all afternoon."

"Pone-Dog, every day is the day you lay around and do nothing. Maybe you could try doing something around here to help out? Like, maybe, go do the dishes or something?"

I ha . . . You know I can't do the damn dishes. No thumbs, remember moron?

"Well, maybe you could run from window to window and look for some cats to bark at? You seem to like doing that everytime I'm on the phone."

Maybe I'll go downstairs and have a smoke?

"No, you won't. I told you, you're not going to start smoking. Quit saying that. You wouldn't look cool, you know? You'd look ridiculous with a cigarette dangling from your mouth."

Chill out, Man. Hey Pox, I ever tell you what We call cats?"

"No."

Sneaky Pieces of Shit

"That's a good name. Now move it."