CRASH! BOOM! SMASH! Clatter! BOOM! "What

CRASH! BOOM! SMASH! Clatter! BOOM! "What IS going on up there", my mother asked. "Erm," I replied "I'm, erm..

just cleaning my room, Mom!" I shouted, as i tried to gesture the St. Bernard into the closet. "Well it's about time!" she shouted back. "Just try to to break anything up there!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. I hoped to hide the stray St. Bernard in my room for a few more weeks. My mom said no pets but I am sure she will understand when I set up an avalanche

veterans association for retired animals. Those poor St. Bernards often turn to the very alcohol they carry when their services are no longer required. Understandable, I suppose,

but how else would one explain that picture of all those dogs smoking and playing poker? Oh, but not these St. Bernards. They drank & picked up bitches in their Corvettes.

nothing but deadbeat doggie daddies. Trixie was a good mom to her plentiful pups, but a little help from the St. Bernards would have been appreciated. Some "saints"! Trixie found

a beautiful flower. It was a daisy, her favorite. She plucked it from the garden, and took it inside.

It wouldn't stop kicking for some reason as she peeked inside her. "SOOMEBODY HELP!!! RAPE RAPE" It screamed

Bloody murder if Trump won."Too soon to say", the spirit reading the Tarot cards told her. The thought police arrested Mme Dujardin but it was the dog that bit first. The end.