Why Do the Big Guys Always Pass Out in the Worst Place?

Fred seems to like lying atop your soft round belly. He grasps as much of your gut as he can in his strong furry arms and buries his cold wet nose in your paunch. "Mmmm," he sighs. "Yer so soft..."

"Oh, Fred," you smile, shaking your horned head and skritching his fuzzy ears with your thick rhino fingers. "What a pair we make, huh? I'm too fat to move, and you're too snockered to move."

Fred answers with a soft snore.

"Um, Fred?" you say, shaking the wolf's broad shoulders. "Get up, pal. You can't sleep here."

Fred snores again, more loudly this time.

You sigh, lean back, and try to make yourself comfortable. "Great," you mutter to yourself. "Just great. Not only am I a thousand pounds overweight again, but now I get to sleep on the kitchen floor. And tomorrow morning, I get to deal with an overgrown wolf with a hangover."

With these pleasant thoughts to cheer you, you eventually drift off into fitful slumber.

Written by Funny Animal

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