A weather front came in, so we got a short downpour.  Storms make Sparky squirrelly, so he suggested that we open up the birthday vodka from my sister.  Sparky said when traveling abroad, he had some and really liked it, but that was a long time ago.

Sparky sniffed my white Russian and wasn’t sure it was the same stuff.

Sparky was embarrassed to admit that it wasn’t vodka he was thinking of, but lamb chops. 

Sparky doesn’t like the smell of vodka, so I offered to make him a little drink with Kahlua and cream to settle his nerves.  He wasn’t interested, but if I was happy with my white Russian, could he have my lamb chop?

Sorry buddy, there are no lamb chops.