Something kept getting into my grandfather’s trash cans, and it was driving him mad. For some reason, he decided the culprit was not the usual raccoon or opossum, but his bear of a cat, Jet.
Hearing the telltale clanging one morning, Grandfather charged out of the house, determined to catch the vandal in the act.
“Get out of there, you fat black bastard!” he bellowed.
Rounding the garage, he came face to face with … the garbage collector. Who, as fate would have it, was a portly man of color.
Grandfather apologized profusely and attempted to explain, but he never felt the guy was convinced.