The Blair Mouse Hunt

Priceless....I could listen to that scream a 100 times. I groaned my way through a 2 hour horror flick the other night that wished it had half the payoff that 8 seconds did.
"Mouse" has it all.
The backlit goon, mumbling in the kitchen and about to touch something gross..
 The soft and trusting voice asking "What are you doing,..Charley..?
The sudden lunge and blood curdling scream as the camera crashes in the unspeakable onslaught.
Pure gold...
I can totally understand why you kept your battle of wits with the mouse a secret. After all, woman gather and men hunt, right? This was between you..and him.  Or is that , woman gather AND hunt and men stay up all night trying not to have nightmares, chasing mice and sending the rtesults to thier buddies....ahem.. colleagues.
By the way, did you catch the mouse?  It looks like you took it to the ground where things get even 'scarier'  because you can 't tell if it's actually in the grip or just tucked away in a peripheral fold of cloth ready to spring for the jugular with it's now enraged mouse fury. Funny too how your murderous intentions weakened from using a butcher's block to 'squish' it to the catch and release. Just didn't seem sporting, did it? Bragging rights most certainly go to the man who catches a mouse with his impromptu prophylactic mittens. Remember I euthanized that rat at the set shop in the bronx? I though that guy who looked like Tony Soprano was going to faint.
 Thanks too, for the 'soundtrack' description.  I figured if it wasn't you then, of course, it was some girl from Belgium. The 'Ker-plopp' of the box is pretty sweet. Like a single foot fall of a clydesdale might sound like. However, your thumbs poking through the sleeves are a little troubling considering those are now sewn in and marketed  to 12 year old skaters. For the record ( and this can be confirmed by several witnesses) I discovered that little Gothy fashion thumb hole in a my worn out cuffs way back in '85. You owe me a royalty.
Now on to the the real subject...my deltoids. I am still trying, with all my considerable might, to spin the word 'Bulbous' into a compliment...
...hold on..almost..there....
And temporary tattoos? What, are you trying to get me killed?
That photoshopped 'swollen finger' was your toe from the previous image of your jack-the-ripper little piggys and the Pino Grosso bottle was a morning well wasted..like this e-mail. I have the morning off bcause I'm taking the now infamous 'oral exam' for the fire depart. late this afternoon. Don't bother with anymore jokes, I think I've heard them all at this point. My favorite is " Tell your boyfriend to give me call if he needs to practice.."
We'll just have to let that house burn, shan't we?
Also, 'opening a jar' is the perfect equivalent to the effort it takes to control the tattoo machine.. and that's if I was using my tongue (which I was )... to do either.
One last thing. Below, is a doodle my mother had saved all these years. It bubbled up to the surface of her year round spring cleaning last Sunday. Remember that guy? I believe it is actually supposed to be your portrait (note the astonishing likeness). Either that or a candidate for Koview Kevy Butt Ding Ding
(note to our future army of readers: The Koview Kevy Butt Ding Ding is a monster that poos in your shoe. Only Charley's very brave and light footed children have actually seen it)