I arrived home last night after ingesting a few goblets of spirits. I remember rolling on the kitchen floor with meatballs. Then I was rolling around on the living room floor with meatballs. When I woke up, meatballs was in my bed. Oh, I forgot to tell you, my dogs name is meatballs.

Later that morning, much to my unsuspecting surprise, my dog aired it all out and came out of the closet. I guess I had inadvertently locked him in there an hour earlier, unbeknownst to me. The little guy started barking up a storm, but of course, I do not speak fluent K-9.

So, in perfect English he said, “You sir, are indubitably a perfectly puritanical exhibit of proverbial petulance and non-punctilious persuasion inasmuch as I have ever mused. Your indolent daily shenanigans are contumeliously cataclysmic as you conterminously remain in a state of constant perniciousness while enigmatically surrounded by a citadel of clairvoyant nothingness.”

Me: “Sup dog, aww thanks, you’re the best too, come here boy.”

Dog: “Oy vey, I have a real winner here…”

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