I just caught this little varmint trying to sneak two hand-fulls of partly frozen popsicles from the garage.
I called his name, and he ran and threw them under the garage door, which was blissfully cracked just wide enough for the chicken laying her egg in there, to get out.
I called his name like this:
"ZEBULUN KING! What are you doing, boy?"
He panicked. Understandable. My voice can be very deep and intimidating when the time comes.
I put the popsicles away, then took the picture posted above---and promptly came inside to tell Mom of her son's devious plan to smuggle all the poor popsicles into the heat, and away from their frigid freezer.
She brought him inside.
He wasn't pleased. He's trouble, there's no doubt.
- - -
Meanwhile, the hen in the garage was just chillin'. The only witness.
~
- - -
Meanwhile, the hen in the garage was just chillin'. The only witness.
