Roses Are Red, Blackeyes Are Blue

The little woman made me drive her to our public wildflower gardens. While meandering the gardens' walkways with her, I killed four pesky butterflies in mid-air, and accidentally swallowed two others. Pheeewww---slimy, oily little buggers---they should switch to low-fat margarine---margarineflies. Then she had me smell what are called Delaware roses, which I don't think are real roses. Anyway, their scent caused an immediate allergic reaction in me. Jonka watched me writhing on the ground for fifteen or so minutes, while she proceeded to smell and admire her precious flowers and plants. That's about when I rolled into a batch of what is known as Canadian cactus.

That does it! In payment for what she put me through, I'm gonna force Jonka to accompany me to the fights. I'm gonna have us seated on the first or second row at the ring, where the blood splattering from each boxer's punches to the other's eyes, nose, and mouth will land on her face or lap.

-Old Gargoyle