Yesterday I was at my local Wal-Mart buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Sheriff the Wonder Dog, and was in the checkout line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog. What did she think I had, an elephant? So, since I’m retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that, No, I didn’t have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I’d lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms. I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way it works is to load your pants pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete, so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me.
I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff an Irish setter’s ass and a car hit us both.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack, he was laughing so hard. Wal-Mart won’t let me shop there anymore.
Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy Shit to say.
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