Norton, darling, what’s all that racket from the back yard?
I’m sculpting something for Fido.
How nice! What is it?
A wooden miniature Sistine Chapel for his dog house.
And you’re doing it with an ax?
No. My adze.
That’s not the sound I usually hear from your ass.
I haven’t used it in a long time.
How creative! Is this how other sculptors create works of art?
The ones who work with wood. They’d be lost without their adzes.
Goodness! I wouldn’t want you wandering off without your ass.
I keep it in a special place.
In your pants, of course.
No. It’s way too big for that. I keep it in a drawer.
Oh. Your underdrawers.
The drawer on top where my adze will be secure.
Your big ass isn’t secure?
It caught on fire once.
From standing too close to the fireplace?
I was heating iron and my adze fell into the forge.
Horrifying! What did you do?
Soaked it in a special fluid.
Melted butter?
An exotic oil that sculptors use to treat wood.
And that’s how you saved your ass.
It saved my career. We couldn’t pay the mortgage without my adze.
Or enjoy our special moments together.
Someday, it could wind up in the Smithsonian.
Dear me! With you, of course.
With my immortal sculptures and other artifacts.
People will flock to Constitution Mall to admire my adze.
It will need to be packed and shipped carefully.
Yes. We mustn’t break your ass.
And insured. I’d recommend Lloyd’s of London.
That makes sense. If they insured Lou Groza’s big toe why not your big ass?
What price should they put on it?
An appraiser said it’s worth a quarter of a million. Maybe more.
What should I tell the shipper?
You’ve got a big adze to ship and it’s valuable. A lot of people would like to get their hands on it.
Maybe now we can pay for Fido’s surgery
Poor Fido!
Yes. We can apply for a loan and use your ass for collateral.
Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll get right on it.
So kind of you! How can I ever repay you?
You can kiss my adze.