The Epicurean Epicurean

Ralph  lived in a bungalow. “I’m a simple man; a true Epicurean,” Ralph (who pronounced his name “Rayfe”, like the composer) often said.

His sister gave him a birthday puppy. “You need company.”

“What kind is it.”

“Mutt. I saved her from the pound.”

Ralph studied the dog. “I suppose I’ll call you Sir Winston.”

He carried her around the block, then set her down inside the front door. Suddenly, a yellow puddle originated from Sir Winston, spreading across Ralph’s Epicurean hardwood floor, oozing into his Epicurean Persian rug.

“Oh my,” said Ralph. “We can’t go teetles in the house.”

 

NB: The gender isn’t a typo. My Ralph named his girl dog Sir Winston.

About jesterqueen:
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.

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