I told that idiot I didn't want him walking

I told that idiot I didn't want him walking my dog anymore. I'm tired of waking up and thinking

of all the secrets that passed between the two, my dog and our newly hired dog walker. I knew they spoke of my manuscripts, my failed manuscripts. I watched from the window,

sharpening my butter knife. They'll pay. They'll all pay! As soon as my dog walker walked into my apartment condo, I lunged at him like an Olympic fencer. He somehow parried it

But I was having charred dog for dinner. I would teach Walker and all the others not to mess with a professional butter knife sharpener. I finally got a hold of my dog Walker, "Bad

to the Bone" playing in the background all the while, and invited him on a long hike through the woods. Walker didn't know or didn't care what I had for dinner, as long as

George didn't bring the Christmas Goose to dinner again. Last year, everyone got sick from eating it. This year, George had a Christmas Horse. Aunt Phoebe was flabbergasted. She

had never had Christmas Horse before, and she certainly wasn't willing to experiment. "Look, George," she began, "You'll have to keep that thing outside, and I better not catch you

serving horse steaks at the party." George seemed disappointed but said, "Fine." He lead the animal outside, mouth still watering for Christmas Horse.

"If you let me go free," said the Christmas Horse, "I will grant you a stocking full of wonder." So George let the horse go (even though he looked delicious) and the very next day

George found a stocking full of glue and chunks of horse meat. He smiled ad raised his arms skyward "Bless you, Christmas Horse!"