Sonja and I were sitting on our living room floor watching the news.
According to the sportscaster, who is no dummy, it looks like the Canucks are sucking a bucket of cold wet shit like usual. The New York Rangers would be in their 68th straight season without a Stanley Cup if they had not met up with a team more cursed than themselves in '94.
The Hammer was curled up beneath the front window, her paws flicking as she dreamt of running in the wilderness with her Drive-by Trucker loving owner.
When I got up I kicked one of Sonja's wee toes with one of my big feet. "My toe!" she screamed just before she elbowed me in the ribs. "You broke it you jerk!"
I went and blew my nose. I must have blown my own weight in snot the last few weeks ."Come here and give me first aid! Where are you going? Some first aider you are!"
By the time I returned Sonja had managed to get her sock off. "Look it! My toe is bent! You bent my toe you bastard!"
I looked at her toes and told her to take off her other sock. "Your toes are all bent. You're a bent toed freak."
"You have no bedside manner you bent toed freak freak. Kiss it! Kiss it better."
I ran my tongue along her throbbing bent toe. "Don't get your hopes up buddy," Sonja said as she withdrew her throbbing thing from me. "But before you pour yourself a whisky and get on the computer get me a couple cookies."
Love is a beautiful bent throbbing thing.
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