Bloody Lizzies, Onion Bombs, and a Novus Ordo Toddler Saved

Prudent parental planning prevented this from becoming a Toddler's watery grave

Clarence C. Clockedile and his wife, Cindy, contacted The Village Shopper in Royal Palm Beach, Florida today to announce that their toddler, Cecil, nearly drowned yesterday but is safe and sound as of 10:00 A.M. today.

Me and the Missus, averred Clarence, are life-long Pittsburgh Steeler fans and so we went to the Lord's Supper at Saint Mary Queen of the Apostles Saturday night to get it out of the way and to prepare for the big game.

The Missus is a huge Big Ben fan and she had made-up some three or for dozen Onion Bombs (Big Ben loves to throw him some bombs)

http://barbecuebible.com/recipe/tuscan-onion-bombs-master-recipe-and-variations/

and, to be perfectly frank, me and the Missus began to tuck into quite a few Bloody Lizzies early on in the day, before noon as I recall...

Bloody Lizzies? O yeah, man; we are Catholics and we don't cotton to getting bombed on a drink named by some perfidious Proddies. The fact is that Queen Elizabeth bumped-off far more of her own citizens than did the Catholic Queen, Mary, so we drink Bloody Lizzies.

Besides, Bloody Lizzie was an illegitimate Monarch who told her dying sister, Mary, that she was a Catholic forever; I pray the earth may open up and swallow me if I am not a Catholic;  Screw that whore...I wish the earth had opened up and swallowed that skank but me and my kin will never swallow anything with the name bloody in it  -unless it is a Bloody Lizzie.

Anyways, to get back to how it was me and the Missus saved our toddler, Cecil, from drowning.

After a few pitchers of Bloody Lizzies, we pitched in and tried to float a keg and we barely remember the end of the game except that Ichabod Crane clone, Peyton Manning, somehow got to be the winning QB which is a damn shame because he throws the ball like some dame in her dotage.

Man, he sucks...

Anyways, I remember the Missus saying to lock all the damn doors so Cecil Clarence Clockadile can't get out the house and end up face down dead in our pool which, if I am forced to be honest, would have been worse than the Steelers losing.

Anyways, we locked-up every damn window and door and when we woke-up about noon the next day, ol' Cecil, was dragging his butt across the floor with his diaper leaking, smelling worse than we were, but he was alive.

So, this was an early thanksgiving for us even though the Steelers, because their french-named running back, Toussaint, fumbled and cost them the game.

T'hell even drafts a running back with a French name?