There are 3 things that cause Rakes and Trot to completely lose their minds.
One is Santa. Nothing like an overweight stranger flying a sleigh powered by a bunch of reindeer on HGH (how else do you explain to a 5 year old how 8 freaking deer can fly a guy that fat all over the world in a 12 hour period? I'm doing the best I can here; you got any better answers and I'm all ears) who is going to have you a bike, a video game, and some socks from Target waiting when you get up. And no; I haven't figured out the whole "Target" thing yet.
Second is fighting. ANY kind of fighting; WWE Wrestling, Power Rangers, Peter Pan, COPS, and Sponge Bob are all included. Even the Bible isn't safe; tell Rakes about Sampson killing a bunch of guys with the jawbone of a donkey and he's in the backyard looking for a the skeleton of Eyeore he left outside during the last rain storm just so he can go all Stone Cold Steve Austin on Trot and have the excuse to use the word ass as a bonus.
Third? Dead animals. Can be a dead possum on the highway, bird in the woods behind our house, or a colony of ants Ang killed with Round Up. It's like they turn into CSI agents, only if it involves the wild kingdom. But the holy grail of dead animals? The mysterious and rarely seen snake.
Which brings me to tonight.
Ang was over at my folks house helping my Mom with some Spring Cleaning and lo and behold the dreaded black snake made an appearance.
Now, he doesn't look all that imposing. Until Pop got out the yard stick and stretched him out just a bit.
After the great Python was beheaded, Rakes and Trot ambled over for a look.
Take note of the maniacal look they both have on their faces. Trot especially seems excited about the large, dead reptile 6 inches from his feet. God Help Me. I may have the 2022 version of the Crocodile Hunter on my hands.
Lastly, Lewis and Clark version Duh give their enemy a proper burial with a little help from my Dad.
Good Lord, they look like total psychopaths.
It's like an updated version of "American Gothic" gone terribly wrong.
Thankfully, the Red Sox are back on tv tomorrow night and I can blissfully continue to ignore the fact I'm raising the modern day equivalent of Jesse and Frank James for one more night.