Operation You Twat

May 26th 2006

“It’s Friday,” said The Trouble, entering the kitchen.

“All day.”“We always have a Chinese on a Friday, or a Thai.”

“Right, we’re having sliced beef in black bean sauce.”

“Then why are you making meatballs?”“They’re for the Pollitt’s dog.”

“You’re going to try feeding it? In the hope it will stop barking?”

“In the certain knowledge it will stop barking.”

I put The Trouble in the picture as I added the twelve crushed sleeping pills to the pound of Tesco’s steak mince and formed it into two eight ounce balls. I half-expected her to raise some opposition to my plan as she used to be in the RSPCA until she swerved to miss a cat and suffered a whiplash injury, but none came. No doubt she’s as heartily pissed off with You Twat’s barking and howling as I am. “Right,” I said, “you get yourself upstairs and watch out of the back bedroom window and tell me if I hit the target.”

“Aren’t you going to cook the meatballs first?”

“No, they might disintegrate in flight if I cook them.”

“You’ll give the dog worms, feeding it raw meat.”

“It won’t be worrying about having worms, it’ll be asleep. I don’t think the worms will be too active either.”The Trouble went up to the bedroom and I went out into the back garden. You Twat was howling fit to burst. I’d already been down to the park for half-an-hour’s practice to get my range but even so decided to take the precaution of another practice throw in situ with a large pebble of around the same weight. I took up my position and tossed the pebble into the Pollitt’s garden. The howling increased.

“You’ve hit the dog,” said The Trouble, from the open bedroom window.”

“Good.” Having found my range I then expertly tossed the first of the meatballs. The barking stopped. I looked up to The Trouble. “Did it land in the target area?”

“Yes.”

“What’s happening? Is the dog eating it?”

“It’s sniffing at it.”

I waited a moment or two. “Well?”

“It’s still sniffing at….no, no it’s turned its nose up at it, it’s turned away.”

“Shit.”

“You should have cooked it.”

I had to admit she could be right. After all the meat in tins of dog food is cooked. I decided to leave it for the time being in the hope that You Twat might change its mind and eat it eventually. If it didn’t I’d have another go with a cooked meatball at the next available opportunity.

The barking continued until the Pollitts arrived home so it looks like You Twat continued to ignore the meatball, either that or it ate and its got a stronger constitution than I’d given it credit for.     

2 Comments

  1. Wonder what the Met office’ll make of the Pollits ringin up n claimin it’s raining raw meatballs. Be an interesting conversation that would.

    Comment by Four Dinners — May 28, 2006 @ 1:36 pm

  2. you could get lucky, the dog may still eat it. or one of the tribe may do!

    Comment by fatfiz — May 29, 2006 @ 7:13 am

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