Okay, so I ate the number two pencil. Maybe it was the way it smelled. I am after all, a scent hound. Which means that I can tell you with 100% certainty that there is a Snickers wrapper with some caramel still stuck to it on the sole of a chubby kid’s shoe in Paramus. Maybe I ate it because it was the prettiest looking stick I ever saw. Almost trophy quality. I liked the point on the end of it. I used it as a toothpick. The best part was the little pink nipple on the other end of it. I had to spit out the small silver collar to get to it, but it was worth it. Maybe I ate it just because it was called “number two.” I didn’t expect that hard black filling though. What was THAT all about? Now every time I sit down and scratch, I Ieave smudge marks on the floor. (Patti’s not going to like THAT.) Hold on I have to scratch myself. Did I just hear a bird? God, I’m so bored right now. That’s because I’m a Weimaraner. Sometimes it’s better to be stupid; there are less obligations in life. Did I just say that? HOLY CRAP, I CAN WRITE!!! Wait a minute, I have to lick myself. Oh look, there’s a stinkbug…