Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
I get the impression from reading some of you comments on yesterday's post (SEE HERE) that you think I'm cruel for stabbing lizards who enter my home.
What I failed to explain is that I have a legal and binding agreement with the Local Lizards Union that I made within forty-eight hours of moving into my humble abode.
The deal is as follows: Lizards, you stay outside. If you come in the house, I shall kill you.
What could be simpler than that? The green guys don't belong in here.
The Hurricane used to have an arrangement with Faulkner, the Original Dog. Each morning he waited patiently as she ate her toast. When she reached the last corners of the toast, she gave them to Faulkner. I know it's not the same as stay outside or I'll kill you, but some agreements must be honored.
So Little Green Bastards, stay the hell out of my house, or I'll stab you.
Infinities of lizard love,