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Martin & Harriet
- On Fleas and Leaving
Harriet, you never
could take care of animals. I
was the pet person in our house.
Yes, of course, Dear.
A real Dr. Doolittle. This
dog is infested. That’s
what I get for letting that dreadful woman next door take care of him
for the weekend. He’s
filthy…poor widdle Winston.
I always hated that
dog, despite his adoring me.
Ha! He didn’t adore
you, Martin. He just wanted to stay close enough to bite your face off.
Yes, all eleven pounds
of him. Could you PLEASE stop his infernal yapping!
How DO you stand it?
He’s my baby.
God knows we never had a chance at kids, but he makes up for it.
These bloody fleas though. They’re
driving me mad. Driving him
mad, too.
He was already crazy
when you took him in. Harriet honestly! You pluck them off and hurl them
to the floor as though you think the fall will kill them.
I’ll take him to the
vet. That should fix his
awful problem.
The only problem that
dog has, wife, is you.
Jolly good thing I’m
not your problem any longer, eh Martin?
I’d give a big hip
hooray on that one, Darling.
By the way Martin, any
word yet on your departure? It’s
been ages since the funeral. I’d
like my life back, if it’s not too much trouble.
Harriet, I have no idea
if it’s too much trouble or not.
I do not have a pipeline to the Almighty.
I have no clue what I’m doing when I’m not here.
I’m not sure I exist at all when I’m not here.
Well if you must stay
so long Martin, don’t interfere with my life.
I have a life. You
do not. Not any longer.
Even though you’ve always been mildly entertaining, this
routine is getting a little old.
I’ll be sure to
pass the message on, Dear.
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