Doug and his Mower

This morning I woke up with a carrot in my left hand, and a mustard mustache. This isn’t the first mustard mustache I’ve had!

I called my cousin Darryl and Darryl reminded me that today was the anniversary of the time when the people came out of the closet in my house when I was growing up. He said “Hey, Otto, you remember when we were kids, and I was at your place for the summer, and two men came out of trap door in your closet from underneath the house and asked for glasses of lemonade?” and I said “Yes, of course Darryl, who do you think I am, someone who forgets?”

And then Darryl and I got into a fight, and I told Darryl to not call me anymore, but he burned me good by saying “You idiot, you called me.” and he was right. I did. He’s on my speed dial number 4.

One of those guys who climbed out of the closet trap door had a duck in his hand, and the duck was dead, and he was swinging it around like it was a yoyo, saying “hey hey tootles, this here duck was under your house chasing a snake! We fixed him up good, now where’s the frying pan?”. Those guys were the gardeners, and one of them used to drive a tractor around with a lawn trimmer attachment.

So that’s why I don’t like my neighbor Doug. He has a 4×4 ride-on mower, and his lawn his so perfect. And that’s also why I’m afraid of ducks.

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