As you may recall, The Foob had been missing. There was even speculation that perhaps he’d run away to join Cirque du Soleil, being a wannabe Frenchman and all. I’m sure some of you probably suspected that rather than running away, The Foob had simply been misplaced by his Tamoxifen-brained owner. But I assure you that’s not the case. The fact of the matter is that he was hiding. Pouting because he wasn’t getting enough of the spotlight.
However, even The Foob can only hold out for so long. And when I said to Mini Me the other day, “I wish I knew where The Foob was so we could take him mushroom hunting” as I was opening one of my underwear drawers, I was greeted with “Bonjour! Were you looking for me?”
(Well, well. Aren’t we unusually congenial? Amazing what the right motivation will do.)
And so, we took him on his first mushroom hunt. Of course, since it was his first time and all, we had to point him in the general direction. Mini Me said, “Okay Foob, I see one over there.” “I do not see zee truffle,” The Foob replied. “It’s not a truffle, it’s a morel. Keep looking,” said Mini Me, “It’s over close to the fence. Do you see it?” After a few seconds of intense scrutiny of the leaf-littered ground, The Foob shouted, “Sacrebleu! I see zee mushzroom!”
As you can see, he was licking his chops in anticipation of the evening’s meal.