Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Wring his neck

I will wring his neck when I, if I, ever lay my hands on him. Darned huge animal that wrecked my water fountain. The fountain is broken. The flourishing water-lily ripped apart, the tall plant with the red flowers decimated and the struggling reeds non-existent. My little flower bed around the fountain trampled. I will wring his neck if I don't run away in terror first!

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