Saw this hanging up in a nearby town earlier tonight.
Odds of the Clippers winning the 2011-12 NBA title? Slim.
Odds of Bobby Brown making a Top 40 comeback? Next to none.
Odds of Pudding returning home? I’ve gotta say … zero.
I’m not making fun. Losing a pet sucks. But I just can’t imagine someone spotting Pudding in, oh, a nearby tree, whistling a few bars of Air Supply and having Pudding gently fly atop a finger. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe birds work in mysterious ways. But, if I had to guess, I’m thinking right now Pudding is either:
1. Chilling with a bunch of birds, thrilled to be free from the cage of hell.
2. Inside a snake’s stomach.