I don't understand it. My son got a bag full of small sized packs of Whopper malted milk candies. He ate some, and left the rest on the floor. So I cleaned them up, and, yes, I ate some. Over time, I ate some more until there were no packs left.
I thought.
When we cleaned the room, and I found more packs.
I ate them.
Then I cleaned out my sewing basket, and found more packs.
This was becoming a strain on my waistband.
Then I found some on my desk.
WHO HATED ME SO MUCH?
Yes, I like Whoppers.
No, I don't want to eat found packs for the rest of my life. I don't have the strength.
So Whoppers, QUIT HAUNTING ME!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
We were hurrying to get to the publisher to pick up some books before visiting family for Christmas. I was sitting in the car, waiting for m...
-
Welcome to the October Blog Hop, where you can visit new blogs, enter to win prizes, and have a great time! At the bottom of this post, yo... -
by Shirley Bahlmann My son, Bron, and I went to Santaquin to watch a master in action... J. Scott Savage regaled the children of C.S. Lewis ...
1 comment:
Oooo, you could send some of those Whoppers my way, if you want! :)
Post a Comment