A Doodle Doo
When I was young my parents got me a pet chicken. I named him Pete. I really didn’t have a lot of interest in Pete until I was about 12 years old. I remember taking him out behind the tool shed and strangling him, choking old Pete until the poor thing vomited and went limp in my hands.
He must have cursed me with his dying’ breath because, to this day, I still have hair that grows on the palms of my hands.
My eyesight is pretty lousy anymore as well.
