My Father

I was in my parents’ garage, with my father and his dog. I was fresh from my first semester at college and still practicing all the disgusting habits that I had learned there. I reached my hand up, index finger extended, and began rummaging around inside of my nose. I pulled out a booger, nothing too offensive. I flicked it to the ground, just as my father saw what I was doing.
“Hey, wipe that on the dog, like the rest of us.”

1 thought on “My Father”

  1. Poor Buddy!

    Dude, its about friggen time you updated your blog. I was beginning to think you got eaten by a bear.

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