Hogspore News: 

A doghouse gets mighty cold in February

By Clet Litter as told to Bob Simpson

Jimmy Suspenders is starting a lawn care service, so he won’t have to work in the winter. This all started cause of something he told me a few weeks ago. He said, “I need to find more work. I gotta cash flow problem. Sara makes a pretty fair income, but she’s got the attitude of most smart women. What’s hers is hers, and what’s mine is hers too. Every wife thinks that way. Once she finds out what’s mine is nothing, she’s gonna be committing some domestic psychological abuse, with maybe a few playful jabs to my stomach.

      That’s why I applied for food stamps to soften the blows, but I only got 20.00 dollars a month. At least it’s enough for a case of beer and a small bag of beef jerky.” When I explained to him he can’t buy beer using food stamps, he didn’t believe me. He asked everyone in town, who promptly spread the gossip about Jimmy being poor and only concerned about buying beer. I gotta give him credit. He come up with the idea of mowing lawns for a living before the word got back to Mrs. Suspenders’ ears.

     Jimmy reported this morning, “She’s happy with the yard cutting notion. Anything to get me out of the house all day and make me too tired at night to bother her. She didn’t like the suggestion of me being in the house all winter, so she bought me a heavy-duty snow shovel and ordered me to offer snow shoveling in the winter.

     Then, she reminded me how cold it can get in the doghouse in February. Her dog can sleep in the people place in the winter and there’s an air conditioner for the dog’s comfort in his outdoor summer retreat. That makes the canine igloo kennel available for a shiftless goldbricking husband.”

      I sez, “I mighty glad to see it worked out and she ain’t mad at you.” We were sitting outside on my truck tailgate and he got up to leave. I noticed he was moving kinda slow. I asked him about it.  

     He said, “I told you that Sara’s not mad. I shoulda added, not mad anymore. She did give me a few playful jabs in the stomach. Hey Clet, You gotta Brewski?”

     I sez, “Nopeski.”  

     Contact at Bobsimpson1947@yahoo.com. You know you wanna.

About Author

Ethan Nahté

See author's posts