Won’t You Please Come In?

Hunter was on the porch when I got home. It was hot. She looked hot. I walked up to her and asked if she’d like to go in. It was air conditioned inside, I told her. She meowed back at me. She stood up and stretched. She loves being outside. I knew I was just wasting my time when I opened the front door and held the storm door wide open and asked, “Won’t you please come in?” Darned if she didn’t turn her head towards the cool air that rushed out to greet us. She sniffed it. She walked in through the door! She does not do this.

Then it hit me. The smell of chicken. Chicken in her favorite food. She turned to me and asked, “What are you waiting for?”

I closed the door and went into the kitchen. “That chicken you’re cooking for dinner smells really good!” I told my son. It was not the cool air that beckoned her highness, Princess Hunter. It was the smell of chicken. And yes, she got some chicken cut up into small pieces for her dinner.


About msplayful

I am someone who finds life humorous and often share my views with friends and co-workers. Since I've been told I should be a stand-up comedian, I thought I'd see how well I could do at writing funny things that happen, or that happen in my head.
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