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Last night,
I saw a group of friends, kind of resembling the ones in the famous television series. It was the birthday of one female friend, and she was very depressed about aging.
The other friends gave her a present, which was a meal on a plate with a burlap sack hidden underneath. On the sack there was a printed picture of a bulldog and the text Camp Redwood. It contained bone-hard, chewy easter egg goodies for dogs.
I’m not sure, but I don’t think the recipient even had a dog, the friends had just acquired the gift for her purely for the nostalgia value, because she had spent all her childhood summers in a Camp Redwood.
Because she was so depressed, without even bothering to look at it, she just upended the sack into the food and mixed all the eggs in with the food before her friends could stop her.
Then when they explained to her that the eggs were dog food, she complained that they should’ve warned her. They defended that it would have ruined the surprise.
Then the whole thing turned into a discussion about whether the eggs would even be fun if you were a dog, as supposedly the round shape might not be very fun to chew at.
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