Funny Friday-Inspired by Allie

First of all, shout out to Samara for first introducing me to this blog...earlier today. And then I went on social media and like three other friends had posted links to it. So obviously this is a great blog.

Oh yeah. The name of the blog is Hyperbole and a Half, and it is amazing. The drawings, the stories, her manner of describing some pretty intense stuff, like depression.

But the post that I'm inspired by today is not at all serious. Well, it is seriously funny...is that an oxymoron or just using the English language to its fullest extent?

Anyway, first enjoy this post from Allie {and pardon the swear words}. And then come back and read today's Funny Friday story.

Ready? Here we go.

When I was in middle school {as in, at the appropriate age to attend middle school...home-schoolers unite!}, my family lived on an island. Yeah, it sounds dramatic and romantic, but let's be real- this is the Pacific Northwest, not the Pacific Islands. There was sand everyday and sun every few days. Moving on.

My dog had gone off on one of her great adventures in the woods surrounding our house, and somehow had managed to catch this mole/rat/creature. It was like a midget version of a Rodent-Of-Unusual-Size. And my dog had caught it.


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Approximately one minute after we learned that Sugar had caught this thing, my mom had to leave the house. She and Dad must have had a date or something, and Mom had to go catch the ferry so she needed to leave RIGHT NOW. So she told us, "Just kill it and bury it so Sugar won't roll in it," and then she drove off. {The dog had a strange obsession with rolling in dead things so that she, too, could stink like death (literally!), and this meant a bath for her, which she had a strange hatred of, so preventing her from rolling in the dead animal-ness was of utmost importance.}

So there we were, four helpless girls with a dog stuck inside and this wounded creature-thing captured under a bucket.

We decided to get an axe...no such luck.

Knife? Not one of Mom's kitchen knives! Gross!

Saw? Too gruesome.

Other options? A shovel. We had a rusty, decrepit shovel. Joy.

Sister J got the shovel; I prepared to release the creature from its bucket of captivity.

Ready. Set. Go. Scream.

We couldn't kill it. Blame it on Sister J's mercy, my squeamish-ness, and the animal's fast maneuvers, but we just couldn't do it. Put the bucket back over it. Try and think of reasonable solution.

We decided to throw the poor creature into the Sound to drown it. Yes, far more merciful, I guess. So we did it. What we didn't realize until too late was that when Sugar caught it, one of its little legs was injured. So instead of swimming away or sinking like a rock, the Rodent-Of-Midget-Size just swam in a little circle.

And so my sisters and I went inside to watch a movie to take our minds off of the horrible deed{s} we had done.

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The ROMS never washed up on the beach.

Sugar never rolled in its carcass.

Mission Accomplished.

P.S. We did NOT watch "The Princess Bride" because it would have been traumatizing.