Saturday, November 10, 2012
My wife, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, got up when she heard the shot, yelling orders like a battlefield commander. “Give me the kid. I can take care of him. You get that monkey body out back and taken care of it. Then come back in and clean up your mess.”
I do as I’m told, always.
I took the dead monkey out back, skinned him, cut him in quarters and wrapped them in wax paper. All four pieces fit in a big ziplock bag, so I marked it “SM Quarters” and stuck it in the freezer.
