I sliced my middle finger open today. Then I heard the sound of the new thingie. Sure nuf'. The D wasn't in his recliner. I looked out the window, and there he was, his white hair bouncing around in the dark. He'd taken his new toy outside. Hooked it up to a working outlet, and started scooping leaves into it. WTF? I was winding down. I ran outside and grabbed a rake on the way. He looked at me like I was a lunatic. I remembered that I was missing his galantamine. Damn.
The only thing that kept me from hyperventilating was my bloody finger. Sounds like an Edgar Allen Poe short story, huh? The Tell-Tale Heart. The Bloody Finger. The Cask of Amantillado.
My interference in the leaf sucking process pissed him off and he walked away. I'm just hoping I don't hear the motor at 3:00 a.m. This is new. Not good. It worries me...
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