Dinner Time
So just when I think that my family is done trying to exterminate me using poisoned food, they prove to me they have no shame.
I open the fridge once more and I see a note that reads "Jim, we're going out for the night, we left you some meatloaf."
So I look at the meatloaf. And this is what I see:
There is no question in my mind this is not only not meatloaf, but in fact it's the cat's food.
So fast forward 3 hours later, my family comes home and I confront them with my suspicions. They say I'm insane and I should see a psychologist. My mom says that she's sorry the meatloaf looked so bad, she'd heat something else up for me. I hastily agreed, not expecting her to stoop any lower now that my suspicions are out in the open.
It's more poison I tell you
But since then my parents have been hellbent on trying to work me to death since their unsuccessful attempts using poison.
My house has no become the gulags, it's unbelievable. My jobs go as following:
1. Clean the litterboxes.
2. Feeding Calla, my mother's dog.
For starters she's not my dog, I don't give a shit about her and she shouldn't be my responsibility.
I'm not going to commit suicide by doing work, I'm not their indentured servant. I have a much better system, kill two birds with one stone.
It's much easier having my dog clean the litterbox than it is for me. She doesn't go through the hassle of all that scooping or what not.
Look Calla! It's dinnertime!
Before you call me sick, I'll have you know she loves it, eats it right up. In addition, we save soooo much money on dog food, and effort on cleaning the litter boxes.
I open the fridge once more and I see a note that reads "Jim, we're going out for the night, we left you some meatloaf."
So I look at the meatloaf. And this is what I see:
There is no question in my mind this is not only not meatloaf, but in fact it's the cat's food.
So fast forward 3 hours later, my family comes home and I confront them with my suspicions. They say I'm insane and I should see a psychologist. My mom says that she's sorry the meatloaf looked so bad, she'd heat something else up for me. I hastily agreed, not expecting her to stoop any lower now that my suspicions are out in the open.
It's more poison I tell you
But since then my parents have been hellbent on trying to work me to death since their unsuccessful attempts using poison.
My house has no become the gulags, it's unbelievable. My jobs go as following:
1. Clean the litterboxes.
2. Feeding Calla, my mother's dog.
For starters she's not my dog, I don't give a shit about her and she shouldn't be my responsibility.
I'm not going to commit suicide by doing work, I'm not their indentured servant. I have a much better system, kill two birds with one stone.
It's much easier having my dog clean the litterbox than it is for me. She doesn't go through the hassle of all that scooping or what not.
Look Calla! It's dinnertime!
Before you call me sick, I'll have you know she loves it, eats it right up. In addition, we save soooo much money on dog food, and effort on cleaning the litter boxes.