Let the record show that once Mrs. Hillbilly Mom returned from town and was dive-bombed by a bat-impersonating butterfly in her own garage...she retreated to the Mansion, and did not come out until the next day.
I'm sure the dogs will corroborate my whereabouts, and not even need any cat-kibble bribes. I had nothing to do with the body found just inside the garage door the next morning. Nothing, I tell you!
Seriously! It's like the body was left there for me to discover it! The corpse even has his legs sticking up in the air. If I was nonsqueamish enough to look for his eyes, I imagine they might have Xs over them like a cartoon decedent.
He was right in front of T-Hoe! I couldn't miss him. I don't see any damage to the body. I don't think that's the murder weapon laying beside him. It looks like a stem from a wild onion. I have no idea how THAT got in the garage, either.
I really hope my L'Oreal Medium Brown didn't contain toxins that got on his feet. Butterflies taste with their feet, you know. But nowhere on the L'Oreal box have I ever seen that it's poisonous for butterflies. I guess this guy will think twice before dive-bombing an elderly gal's lovely lady-mullet next time. Oh, wait. He won't. Because there won't BE a next time. He's deader'n a doornail!
I prefer to think that it was just his time to go. After all, I saw one earlier in the week at Country Mart, out front by the soda machine. In fact, a lady who just got out of a car was picking him up off the sidewalk, setting him out of the way beside the soda machine. Although this very morning, I saw a ripped-off wing on the carpet between the double exit doors.
Yeah. That's it. Their life span has ended. I am not culpable. Still...it's kind of odd that this butterfly was right in front of T-Hoe for me to find him.