Alvin, is that you?

So I have to tell you guys about something hi-freakin-larious that happened last week.

We have this crazy-annoying, borderline feral cat who belonged to Jim before we got married. Jim found him as a kitten, starving and wild, while out hiking in the woods in northern Vermont. He took pity on him and brought him home, and we've been stuck with him ever since. He brings nothing to the table; he sheds, he craps outside of the litter box for no good reason, he requires grooming due to his long mat-prone hair, he bites, and he has mutant extra claws which he uses on everything and everyone. Clearly, he was just not meant to live, but Jim intervened and now Death is just sitting back and laughing at us, perhaps pointing a bony finger in our direction from time to time, because we are too nice to get rid of this insanely annoying creature.

This cat, whom Jim named Lucky but I have since renamed Sucky, goes outside and kills mice and small critters, and that is his one saving grace. We don't like mice, after all, so who gives a fuck? Also, it keeps him busy and out of my house. So here's where the funny story comes in.

Danny likes the movie Alvin & The Chipmunks. I'm sure you clever readers have already seen where this story is going, but bear with me. The other day the kid had just watched that movie again, and he went outside and was running around doing kid-like things, and Jim was out there cleaning up the yard. Read: he has a plastic bag and a trowel and is collecting dog shit so we don't step in it. Yes, Jim gets ALL of the glamorous jobs at Casa de Bev. Anyone who thinks I am out there cleaning up humongous German Shepherd turds does not know La Bev very well.

Jim's got a pretty full bag of poo when he stumbles across a fresh chipmunk carcass. He scoops it into the bag, but Danny has already spotted it. So he comes running over, wanting to see the chipmunk. Jim's like, "Um, I don't think so..." But my kid is nothing if not determined, and he insisted.

Jim opens up the bag and Danny peers inside, sees the mangled chipmunk lying on a death bed of festering dog poop, and starts swaying from side to side and singing in a perfect chipmunk voice:

"Christmas, Christmas... time is near! Time for toys and time for cheer!"



We laughed. So. HARD!!

By the way, if you like hearing about dead chipmunks, (and really, who doesn't?) go read Courtney's blog. She's a tough chick with a gun who likes to show those vermin who's boss. Hint: it's her.