| Sometimes women remind me of this cute little kitten that my grandma had. Spot. As a youngster I would visit her and pet her and she would purr. So soft and sweet. Then one day a dog passed in front of the house and growled at Spot just as I was stroking the front of her neck with my index finger. She took a swipe at my hand and I felt a flash of pain. In horror I saw that she had slit open my palm down the middle, from top to bottom. | ||
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| © 2011. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. | ||
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Trouble Spot
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