Thursday, January 6, 2011

Shit Where You Eat

A dinner table with real grass and dirt in it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, at the time you were riding a unicycle made out of dragon bones and drinking a virgin-blood martini.

That’s when Freckles II showed up to ruin everything. You’d be surprised how squeamish Satanists can get about a little cat feces.

3 Responses to “Shit Where You Eat”

  1. Karen says:

    Oh, I’ve been WAITING for the perfect landing-strip table to come to market! Happy day!

  2. Sarah says:

    I wonder if the wood gets knots when the hair starts to grow back in?

  3. chris says:

    going to do that my fucking self *takes saw to table*

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