So my mother says I have to emerge from under my mourning cloak (a black Marc Jacobs number, in case you’re wondering) to tell you my side of the story on my bro from another mo, Yeti, being viciously murdered.
I was out when the murder occurred. Not out of the house, per se, but passed out. I’ll admit it, I snuck a couple of Polly’s anti-anxiety meds and settled in for a long winter snooze. I mean, how was I supposed to know that a murder was going to go down while I was napping? I mean, this is life, not a game of Clue. Sheesh.
I awoke from my 19-hour long slumber to find my sweet, sweet Yeti decapitated and Polly looking awfully guilty at the scene of the crime. What is a dude to do besides grab a couple more anti-anxiety pills and turn his man cave into a mourning cavern? Nothing, that’s what. Polly insists she was framed for the murder and that my Yeti Man is on the run from people who are trying to hurt him. She keeps showing me pictures of Yeti look-a-likes who she claims are the real deal. Right Polly….whatever you say. I say throw her in the slammer and never let her go free!
Mother did receive a letter from a blog reader that she claims will clear up a lot of the confusion about what happened to Yeti. She says it may even clear Polly’s name. I’m not sure about all that. But until Yeti is back safely in my arm, you can find me under my mourning cloak.