Last night I walked in to find Owen licking his arm. Since I have learned by now that certain things are best not asked about I didn't comment, but he caught me looking at him.
"I taste horrible." He informed me.
I searched my mind for an appropriate response to that, but came up empty. Finally, sensing that he was waiting for me to answer, I said the only thing that I could think of to say. "Really?"
"Yes." He answered, very seriously. "But that's good. Because now, if anyone eats me, they will spit me out. So instead of getting eaten, I will just be wet."
And then he left the room.
Allrightythen. I guess I should be thankful that I can now cross Owen getting eaten off of my list of immediate concerns. That's a load off of my mind, I can assure you.
I have a lot of thoughts in my head right now but just not enough time to get them all down on paper. But I’m heading to Houston tomorrow and I’m hoping th...
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