Can't Wait To See Pat!

  Just took my plate out to the kitchen, where I have a pot bellied stove I got to burn all my waste paper in. 

  Small bits go in the door. Cardboard and such I drop through the lidded, eight inch hole on the top.

  Wiped my Opinel knife off on a bit of blue roll and the barely conscious thought that I'll chuck that in the stove, presently, flashed through my head.

  Closely followed by the unbidden idea that: 

" I must tell Pat I shit in my stove! "

  Fuck alone knows where the hell That one sprung from! But, it's a cracker, isn't it? Best bit is, he'll never be 100% certain I was just fucking with his head! LMFAO!

  He was down here, the other week. He saw ~ and was quite impressed by ~ the fact that I now have sawdust on the floor, in here.

  Dingo Dog's a complete wreck now. He's entitled to be as he's older than my underpants. After chasing around with a mop and bucket of filthy water a few times, I had an epiphany! 

  I have a good, old fashioned, shingley concrete floor, in here. Just like Dad had, at the kennels. And, what did He do? 

  So, I brought out this big bale of top quality sawdust I had for the canaries. It's fucking great! le Ding has any little upsets? So what?

  I can even weave that into it. See; Dad had a sort of steel box, out back. Always seemed fucking massive to me. Probably more like six foot square though. Thigh high to a grown man.

  But, yeah, we dumped all the 'used' sawdust (And Dog shit, of course) into that. And it was eternally smouldering. Five years that I knew of, it had always been smouldering.

  And, that was it. Top it up, each day. It'd smoulder and consume the new stuff. I guess the wind blew the dry ash away?

  What ever, Pat doesn't need to know that much. Once I hit him with the off hand but, obviously quite chuffed revelation that I've figured out this great new method of waste management?;

  Then I can gush happily on to outline how my Dad used to do the same thing, with the kennel waste. Pointing out how my sawdust (Dog shit and puke) also goes in there. I then shit onto that, as it smoulders. 

  If I can figure a way of knowing when he'll be here, I'll shove a cardboard box of sawdust in there and spark it up. Be a good touch, having a warm stove with a trickle of smoke coming out that chimney.

  I'm sat here, belly laughing my fucking arse off about this! He'll fucking Believe me! He absolutely fucking certainly won't ever be able to get his head round any shadow of a doubt that I'm just fucking with him! 

  Give it enough time for That one to become part of the mental scarring I inflict on the poor cunt; Then, I'll passingly mention how I'd found my sink sluggish.

  That'll link, seamlessly, back to the stove one. And will set in stone his total conviction that I'm some sort of fucking savage! ROFLMFAO!!! 

  Ye wait till I tell Tommy about this one! He'll have to pull over, so we can both have a fucking good cry with laughter!