Here's the story. With Neonatal Nate finally making his way to these shores, he and Fabulous Felix have been busy building the gay yuppie dream of a suburban bungalow with white picket fences - and yes, a dog. In their case, a singularly precious golden retriever that they purchased on a happy whim. Certainly made quite a commitment.
And with the happy couple going off in a few weeks for a protracted holiday, both home and hound have fallen to the care of Piratin Patty and me.
*insert evil laugh*
Now that their cot and canine have been left to our tender mercies, we have been trying to decide how best to housesit / dogsit. Between tie-dyeing the lil dog pastel pink to actually hocking the hound and replacing it with a cheaper one, we ran through several nefarious plans.
Paul : Ooh, the things we could get up to!
Patty : We could call the dog by a different name! And refuse to tell them.
Paul : Or train the dog to use his current name as an attack signal! So once they call him... *growl*
Patty : Oh, we'll get them, my pretties!
Paul : And their lil dog too!
And that's all for the poor pathetic pup only.
And this is all for Monday. Now for Tuesday!
There's also the lovely suburban bungalow now left open for our merry use. Just a plain TP would be sophomoric. Then came the idea to put up the house for rent to an entire Roman orgy. After all why should Penang have all the gay fun? Or perhaps try out several risky scientific experiments with explosive chemicals. Or maybe send out random invitations to have a wild paintball party in the house. Or play pretend as a real estate agent only to sell the place to unscrupulous drug dealers.
With a wicked imagination in overdrive, the possibilities are endless - and we haven't even started on the plans for the car yet.