We begin our story in a lonely little spinster's house somewhere in the Midwestern United States. A little dog enters the room and immediately notices a ball hiding under the chair.
Meanwhile, the Spinster gazes at the computer, sighing at all of the lovely work her fellow stitchy bloggy buddies have accomplished.
The dialogue begins:
DOG: Mommie! I want to play ball! Right now, Mommie!
SPINSTER: No, Stewey. Mommie is reading her stitchy blogs.
DOG: Ball, Mommie, ball!
SPINSTER: Stewey! I told you! I am reading all of these stitchy blogs. Don't you know how surly I get if I don't get a chance to see everything that's going on in the stitchy bloggy universe?
DOG: You're always surly anyway, Mommie. Ball!
SPINSTER: I resent that accusation, Stewey. I think I'm perfectly pleasant and very easy to be around and if you don't get out from under that chair this very instant, I'm going to send you to your room.
DOG: There are so many things wrong with your statement that I don't even know where to begin. 1) You are NOT pleasant. As a matter of fact, I would say that you are decidedly one of the most UNpleasant people I've ever met. 2) As far as being around you....please realize that I am contractually obligated to do so and that if I had my druthers I'd move in with my Aunt Chrissy and that little snot, Bosco. 3) Finally, Mommie, you have never sent me to my room in all the time I have lived here because you know as well as I do that you are completely incapable of adhering to any type of consistent discipline. This, of course, would account for my total lack of respect for your silly "house rules" and my utter disdain for that idle threat of sending me to obedience school.
SPINSTER: Oh yeah? Well I'm bigger than you are.
DOG: What are you, seven years old? Are you THAT incapable of formulating a decent response to my allegation of sheer incompetency in the Mommie department? Are you THAT unable to come up with a retort that would NOT be used on an elementary school playground?
SPINSTER: (a long silence ensues)
DOG: I see that you have no witty comeback for that one, so may I just say BALL MOMMIE! RIGHT NOW! BALL!
The Spinster finds her shoes and walks slowly to the back door, head hanging in humiliation. She mentally calculates the amount of her grocery budget that would be need to be re-allocated to cover the cost of day care and decides that eating macaroni and cheese from the box six times a week might actually be preferable to putting up with this little s***.
The sun shines brightly and the breeze gently ruffles the tree leaves and the Spinster and her little dog play ball in the back yard. All is well in Hoosierville once again.
THE END
Meanwhile, the Spinster gazes at the computer, sighing at all of the lovely work her fellow stitchy bloggy buddies have accomplished.
The dialogue begins:DOG: Mommie! I want to play ball! Right now, Mommie!
SPINSTER: No, Stewey. Mommie is reading her stitchy blogs.
DOG: Ball, Mommie, ball!
SPINSTER: Stewey! I told you! I am reading all of these stitchy blogs. Don't you know how surly I get if I don't get a chance to see everything that's going on in the stitchy bloggy universe?
DOG: You're always surly anyway, Mommie. Ball!
SPINSTER: I resent that accusation, Stewey. I think I'm perfectly pleasant and very easy to be around and if you don't get out from under that chair this very instant, I'm going to send you to your room.
DOG: There are so many things wrong with your statement that I don't even know where to begin. 1) You are NOT pleasant. As a matter of fact, I would say that you are decidedly one of the most UNpleasant people I've ever met. 2) As far as being around you....please realize that I am contractually obligated to do so and that if I had my druthers I'd move in with my Aunt Chrissy and that little snot, Bosco. 3) Finally, Mommie, you have never sent me to my room in all the time I have lived here because you know as well as I do that you are completely incapable of adhering to any type of consistent discipline. This, of course, would account for my total lack of respect for your silly "house rules" and my utter disdain for that idle threat of sending me to obedience school.
SPINSTER: Oh yeah? Well I'm bigger than you are.
DOG: What are you, seven years old? Are you THAT incapable of formulating a decent response to my allegation of sheer incompetency in the Mommie department? Are you THAT unable to come up with a retort that would NOT be used on an elementary school playground?
SPINSTER: (a long silence ensues)
DOG: I see that you have no witty comeback for that one, so may I just say BALL MOMMIE! RIGHT NOW! BALL!
The Spinster finds her shoes and walks slowly to the back door, head hanging in humiliation. She mentally calculates the amount of her grocery budget that would be need to be re-allocated to cover the cost of day care and decides that eating macaroni and cheese from the box six times a week might actually be preferable to putting up with this little s***.
The sun shines brightly and the breeze gently ruffles the tree leaves and the Spinster and her little dog play ball in the back yard. All is well in Hoosierville once again.
THE END
LOL!
ReplyDeleteChalk another one up for Stewey! :)
ReplyDeleteI have to ask if Stewey barks his little head off and picks the ball up and tosses at you the whole time? That's what my dog does until I want to scream!! She's a yellow lab and her bark is loud. Sometimes I think my ears are going to bleed. I believe she is ADHHD with a little annoying attitude thrown in.
ReplyDeletePoor Mommie, no respect from the little furball. I think Mommie should send Stewey to bed without his supper, and go have supper with Auntie Chrissy and Bosco. Or perhaps come visit our loving group of pets in Debs' haven, where her 90 pound lab mix can teach Stewey some manners and how to be adoring to his people! Stitch on, Coni! You rule!
ReplyDeletehugs
Debs
Stewey 1, Mommie 0
ReplyDeleteWhen I saw the title, I was wondering who the author was going to be. If Stewey brings the ball back, maybe Mommie might want to invest in an automatic pitching machine. Mommie could set it up to throw the balls for Stewey and he'd bring them back. When he brings back a whole pile of balls, Mommie could stop her stitching for a minute, reload the automatic pitching machine and start all over again.
(It wouldn't work at my house because my schnauzers have not perfected the art of returning the balls)
LOL I love you and Stewey!!!! You always make me feel so much better after I read your blog!
ReplyDeleteLOL! Stewey you're just as demanding as my kids and have all the comebacks too! Maybe mom should hide your ball! (only kidding).
ReplyDeleteSomeone around here doesn't like when I read the stitchy blogs and paws at the laptop. She's already broken the tab key. I feel you sister.
ReplyDeleteStewie, Milo here - I gave up waiting for Mum to get off her well endowed padded end to play ball with me. Instead I learned to drop a drool covered ball into her lap, then when she tosses it away, retrieve it and put it back again. Occasionally I vary it by tossing it onto the keyboard - drool and all.
ReplyDeleteKeep up the good work!
LOL. Stewey makes me miss my little JRTs. He is adorable.
ReplyDeleteLOL my pets usually win as well.
ReplyDeleteShe fought the dog and the dog won! Hell, they always win.
ReplyDeleteHey, Coni, thanks for the fabulous idea for saving my little bag from never being found again. I think you're smart, no matter what Stewey says about you.
You just made my day,,I love the stewey stories,,keep them coming..
ReplyDeleteGo Stewey Go!
ReplyDeleteGosh, I hope my furry friend will not learn to talk back to me like that. I hate it when people are cleverer than I am (hence my life as a virtual recluse), but I can't think what will happen when my CAT turns out to have more brain cells than me.
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