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!
WARPED HUMOR, GENERAL MAYHEM, AND A SIX-FOOT-TALL VIEW OF LIFE FROM AUTHOR SHIRLEY BAHLMANN
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1 comment:
Oooo, you could send some of those Whoppers my way, if you want! :)
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