Okay everybody, someone is really trying to mess with my head. Not since the movie “Gaslight” has anyone been as manipulated into questioning his or her sanity as I have been lately.
To bring you up to speed, 10 months ago I wrote The Great Banana Mystery, in which I described the antics of my dog Quagmire, who brought me intact bananas on two consecutive days. Bananas from, seemingly, nowhere.
Then, two months later, I wrote The Plot Thickens, about Quagmire bringing me a slice of watermelon, when I had no watermelon in the house.
Three months after that, I wrote Things Get Fruitier, when Quagmire brought me a peach. Again, no peaches on my grocery list.
Now, five months after the peach, I am at the end of my rope. I went outside for two short minutes to put my trash can at the curb for pick up, and when I came back inside, I found an egg, still in its shell, sitting in the middle of my living room floor. I swear I’m not making this up. I can’t even imagine making something like this up.
After a quick inventory of the eggs in my fridge, I discovered that they were all accounted for. So… what the hell????? What… how… I can’t even form an appropriate question.
I actually hesitated to dispose of it for a minute there. For all I knew, it was set to detonate. Or worse, it might disappear in my hand. I’ve watched too many episodes of The Twilight Zone in my lifetime.
Quagmire also brought me half an apple recently. Fortunately, I soon realized that the little monster had stolen the apple from my backpack and must have taken it outside to munch on before showing it off. And that damned apple had cost me $1.99 a pound.
So this dog has a history of food theft, to say the least. Thank heavens his little legs are too short to get him up on the counter, or lord knows what I’d come home to every day.
But… an egg? I mean… No words…
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