As I sat reading one of the bards tales the laughter within me could not be quelled he wrote with authority he wrote with some wit his words seemed to match with the joint I just lit
As I continued to peruse the tale A voice from the kitchen slightly derailed my narrowing focus had suddenly gone south it seemed that I now had cotton in my mouth
I reached for the glass beside on the stand intending to quench the thirst I now had but not taking an eye off the page before I clumsily knocked the drink to the floor
I looked around if any had seen where was the cat when I really need a lackey , a scapegoat on which to lay blame The voice from the kitchen called out my name
"What was that noise?" inquired the voice looking around I had but one choice Take off my socks and sopp up the mess down the hallway came her footsteps
Quickly I scrubbed and scrubbed some more the cranberry juice had stained the floor suddenly there before me appeared the fuzzy red slippers which I so feared
"You've stained the carpet!" spat my angry wife I quivered and shrank hopefully out of sight "I've told you before "your not allowed." "to sit and read stories with liquid around."
With my head bowed I went for the door containing the machine I'd used before patiently she watched as I cleaned the spot removing the stain which I had wrought