They were here...

I know they were

left bits of wing and bits of hair

there is a poem in there somewhere...

Perhaps another day.

Good day - except for cleaning off the world's largest schmegball of dog doo from the mister's walking shoe.

Him do it? No can do.


Edit: In Mr. F's defense I must add that he valiantly tried to do it himself until gagginess completely overwhelmed him and he had to ask for my help. What's that? One can pretend to gag? Really?