I ran out of dog food so I told my little poodle that I had to go to the market to get some. I told him that if I didn’t make it back, he should tell my wife and family that I love them. He nodded his head, and I swear I saw a tear forming in his eye.

I went shopping at the grocery store and I happened upon a “free sample” guy. He was peddling midget hot dogs that were speared with a tooth pick. I don’t like those little things, they freak me out.

I walked by him without so much as looking his way. Then, I felt little ping on the back of my head. I looked around and saw an undersized hot dog on the floor near me. “That little SOB is getting me back for last week’s Jell-O incident,” I thought to myself.

Just then I dove to the floor and rolled over – Rambo style – to the deli salad bar and loaded up on marinated olives. When he wasn’t looking, I hummed one at him and it beaned him in on his forehead. I immediately took on rapid-fire mini-hot dogs.

I returned fire with fistfuls of olives until the supply ran out. I had inadvertently taken out a few civilians, but war is hell and casualties are part of war.

I switched ammo to pepperoncini’s and this battle was soon over. The hot pepper juice blinded the 85-year-old giver-awayer guy and victory was mine!

Upon my exit, I grabbed the microphone at the checkout line and said, “Clean up, aisle 4, 5, 6, 7, and 9, STAT! And BTW, those olives are delicious!”

On the way to the ambulance the old man yelled, “You better be on your game next week, I’ll have XXXX hot Chili!”

I had much strategies to consider, if the old goat lives another week…

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