Drunken Fishy

A very druken fishy sits in the middle of her living room typing away. Margaritas loosen my senses and causes me to type random things on the internet. Yes. Freedom to type everything and nothing at the same time.

A pitbull stares at me with love and hope. Hope that I might wander into the kitchen and get something cheesy to share. Little does she know that my plans now lie in the direction of a warm bubbly tub. I give her a quick pat and beg her chunky forgiveness. I think of the fajitas left lying in the parking lot. The scene of the crime. A moment when I could not stop tears from falling and I had to flee. She would have been pleased with me, leftovers for my sweet puppy. I sigh. Pushing aside all these thoughts, I head to the bath to wash the day away.