The Story of Watson: The Breakfast Thief

I've talked about cats and dogs before, but this time it's personal.

This is the story of Watson, a mini wired-hair dachshund.
Here he is.

Isn't he cute?
Isn't he nice looking?
Doesn't he seem like a nice, fun, awesome dog?

It's a lie. All lies.
He's a double agent. A traitor.
Let me cartoonify him first.

Because you deserved it. Traitor.

One day, I decided to take some time and make Eggs Benedict for breakfast (point of information: this was at my parent's house, and Watson is my parent's dog).

What is eggs benedict, you ask? Let me draw it out for you.

So I just finish making this concoction of deliciousness, this edible monument to engineering. I place it on the table, and go to quickly clean the dishes before eating it, as I don't like to eat lava.

Now is a good time to mention that dogs are simple creatures with very simple minds...

This dog, with a height or like 8 inches, JUMPED onto the chair, HOPPED onto the table, and ATE BOTH EGGS BENEDICT I MADE.

And then ran off.

All before I even freaking realized what was happening.

It was gone. All the work (which is more than you think) was eaten in the space of a minute. By Watson the dog.

And the plate was licked clean.

It was a most grievous error. I spent the rest of the day playing Indoor Safari with a nerf gun, stalking the Puppy Errant and shooting him with the foam darts.

Because, well, you can't actually be angry at a dog that cute.

"Soon I shall be the Bacon King!"

Comments Welcome!

I date lava girl

Yesterday Fiancée and I went out on a date to a local bar.

Finally.

It was just a small place, nothing too flashy or exciting. We figured just order a few appetizers and beers and call it a night. We ordered beer-battered french fries and I nearly died out of happiness.

Some time later, our french fries were depleted, and there was much sorrow. To stave off the oncoming darkness, we got jalapeño poppers. They were fresh out of the fryer, which meant that the cheese inside the popper was a temperate 8000°C. 

Tastebuds were lost.

Meanwhile on the feminine side of the table, all was well.

It took me three years to realize that I was dating Lava Girl. The proof was all around me. At coffee places...

Restaurants...

Hell, even campfires

The REAL kicker is that, whenever we cook something, who's the taste tester? 

Me.

Actual quote.

The female mind is a curious, strange thing. Best to stay away.

An unknown artist's interpretation of the feminine mind.

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