The Sweet Husband

Sheryl and the Chicken Bones

First, a little background. I am not a crier by nature, I don't let things get to me enough to cry about them, it isn't that I can't cry, I am just usually so positve about life in general that I don't have anything to cry about.
PawPaw gets crazy on those rare occasions that I can't fake it til I make it. If granny crys, then someone somewhere needs their ass kicked and he's ready to do it.

The first thing I do when Sheryl has left, every time, is go in and take all the trash out of her room. There is usually dozens of bags, even though we tell her every time it's'trash day to bring hers out.

This morning, Pop decided that he would help me, we got the trash out but there was a stack going about halfway up the wall those little flat white gift boxes that you buy in packs of 3 at the dollar store.

He asked me what those were for, and I told him I had no clue, and for some reason it made me start to cry. No clue why, but I was just boo hooing.

Now he's all upset, granny is crying and there is no available butt to kick. He reaches out and grabs one of the boxes and rips the top off of it and about six chicken leg bones roll out on the floor.

He looks at the bones, looks at me, looks at the bones, looks at me, calmly picks them up and puts them back in the box, puts the box in the trash, and informs me he is leaving her alone, cause if she did that to a chicken he didn't want to mess with her.

Crying over, I am laughing again, and we went through and threw away all of sheryl's neatly boxed remains of her dinners for the past several weeks.