What became of the bath tub family?
The future of mobile gaming involves chaining a pinball machine to your ankle. For an extra $150, they'll screw some wheels on it.
The future of mobile coal-powered blast furnaces involves a lot of awkward dinner table conversation about “your new friend.”
Say it. Say it while I'm looking at you. While we're together. While no one else can see.
“I renounce roast beef dinners. I will never knowingly eat another roast beef dinner again.”
…
You weren't sincere.
“I swear to you-I, -I will never again enjoy a roast beef dinner complete with rolls and cloth napkin. Not alone. Not in front of others.”
I told them you could be trusted.
“Wait, listen–“
We eat catfish filet and a slice of onion.
“As will I.”
No…no. Not after today.
The one rule we have in this house is: if you were born half animal, say part fish or part marmaduke, you must sign only your human name. On art works and contracts alike. Even if coined by Neptune himself, your animal name shall not be spoken while father is alive.
The other house rules are more recommendations having to do with oil temperatures used during the frying season.
When one of the grown-ups starts on a temper tantrum about the flavor of his parfait cup, I stand there, silently nodding, maintaining eye contact. All the while, though, I just picture large worms crawling all over their face while they're still alive. And if one of the worms slips off, I pick it up, reach over and drape it back over their lips.
This last part is done in pantomime but my naturally sweating hands' dampness lends the right level of discomfort to the affair.
Few do, but if they ever question my behavior, I just tell them I plan on buying a large pickup truck and that quiets them down.
Through ordinances and referendums and executive orders, the town council has outlawed and restricted and limited all activities heretofore known as “Nightlife” to a single game of Chinese checkers held in the rear parking lot of St Gertrude's Tears of the Redeemer Sacred Heart church, 7:30pm Saturdays.
Congratulatory handshakes are being offered by the Mayor at a little card table set up near the book return in the library all week, on a first come, first-served basis.