I'm not a saint, but I play one on the comics pages.
Once while I was gently tapping, rapping on a chamber door,
Suddenly I spied an author, more morose than Geoffrey Chaucer,
Sitting just above the floor.
To think if I did only know it, this macabre and twisted poet,
Had a plan to turn my name to something people would abhor;
With no way to ’eer reprieve ill-crafted fame as something evil—
Doomed to inauspicious lore; happy as a lark no more!
No idea why a vulture would want to fly up to 36,000 feet … unless it’s trying to steal the carrion luggage.
Wait—They missed the restroom scent?? It just wouldn’t be the same.
Bud, take a hint—She wants Don Juan.
Nostalgia for lovers lane??
The points are all well taken. I have had a dog, a cat, and several psychotherapists (one now). When it comes to emotional bonding, the pets are so totally available and unconditional. Human life is more complex, and when it comes to moving on with our lives, we may need human help. My comment was a somewhat flippant, and I’m sorry if anyone’s feelings got stepped on.
Dude, you can get grief counseling with a person.
First comic about the new plague! Congrats.
I’d say that lowers the bar on what you call “lucky.”
Thanks - And can I get a turkey sub with Swiss cheese and extra mustard? ;)