|
|
|
|
|
|
The boss gave us a smoked turkey for Christmas, so I decide to "peel the turkey" as I usually do, so i can hurry and get the carcass in the trash outside.
Presto and Little Feet would kill for turkey, so they both run into the kitchen, and practically slide across the linoleum because they are running too fast.
Little Feet says "Give me some of that, oh give me turkey, oh give me... hey! This isn't real turkey!" and stalks off.
Presto is reaching up to the counter top, and grabs a piece with both paws, puts it in his mouth, then practically spits it across the room. It is becoming obvious that my boys do not like smoked turkey.
It is also pretty obvious that they both have short memories, because they each come back in the kitchen three times more to see if the turkey has changed in flavor (grin). Of course they reject the newest peace offerings.
Good thing they don't like peanut butter fudge either (gift from one of the kids) - grin.
Editor's note:
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
| Last article |
Story menu |
Main index |
Top of article |
Local menu |
Next article |