Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bone.” Use it any way you like. Have fun!
‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you!’
Now any dog worth his salt is highly unlikely to share said bone, and if anything like our Barney was, will bury it in the garden for at least six months and we will have no idea where. Yet when it is lovely and rancid, he would happily dig it up, bring it in and drop it at our feet, as if to say ‘NOW pick it with me’. Urgh!
Maggie has never been one for bones, even when we got some ribs from the butcher and cut them up, she wasn’t in the least bit interested.
And as for me?
Well, I would never get my fingers greasy by picking up the chicken or turkey bones, even as a babe to cut my teeth on. Oh no, I would only eat ‘the chest’ of the bird, as at 5, I was too embarrassed to say the word ‘breast’.
Could’ve been worse, I could have said Tit I suppose, and we all know the story of where are my tits going to sit.
(If not, read here)