Saturday, May 31, 2008

Q: How Do You Kill An Armadillo?

A: Run over one of these. (Not the pen, the puny little thing the pen is pointing to.)

Tonight, my lovely bride Patty and I had a fine meal at the Two-Seven (Moo Shu burger for me, fish tacos for her), followed by an even finer nightcap at Baskin-Robbins (cherry cheesecake for me, some goofy chick flavor for her). All was bliss until we loosed the tethers of our youthful ponies, only to find that Friday the 13th had come a couple weeks early.

Due to my microbrew-influenced state of mind, I actually considered just riding home on the flat. But finally I sucked it up and found a well-lit spot on Baskin's sidewalk. They must have been so proud of their cultured south hill customers, greasin' it up on out front. Patty was wondering if this enchanted evening would ever end.

After thousands of trouble-free miles, I was starting to think that nothing could bring down an Armadillo. Jinxed myself big time.

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