Our Criminal Family Plans Major Heist
Our Criminal Family Plans Major Heist
Three-year-old daughter Cornucopia is the genius who thought this one up. We were coming home from the daycare center and she started free associating in a very creative manner. and, by the time we sat down for dinner, she had the whole thing figured out.
This is how it works:
I go outside and stand under the moonlit sky. Corny gets up on my back. My wife then climbs up and stands on Corny's shoulders. My wife then, with one convulsive heave, hurls herself into the heavens, grabs hold of Mr Moon and pulls him down. He is ours!
Looks good on paper, and I'm expecting we'll be able to pull it off. But where will we stash the kidnapped moon?
My first thought was our lock-up garage, but then I remembered it's crammed full of illegal refugees, all slaves who escaped from Chinese brick kilns.
My ife swears blind that she never gave anyone our address, but they keep turning up. They mistakenly think we are a station on some underground railway for escaped slaves, and will help them get back to their beloved North Korea.
They are wracked with nostalgia for grass soup, roast tree stump, placenta stew, bird dung omelettes.
If you want to buy all 27 for your organ bank, I'm open to any reasonable offers.
Three-year-old daughter Cornucopia is the genius who thought this one up. We were coming home from the daycare center and she started free associating in a very creative manner. and, by the time we sat down for dinner, she had the whole thing figured out.
This is how it works:
I go outside and stand under the moonlit sky. Corny gets up on my back. My wife then climbs up and stands on Corny's shoulders. My wife then, with one convulsive heave, hurls herself into the heavens, grabs hold of Mr Moon and pulls him down. He is ours!
Looks good on paper, and I'm expecting we'll be able to pull it off. But where will we stash the kidnapped moon?
My first thought was our lock-up garage, but then I remembered it's crammed full of illegal refugees, all slaves who escaped from Chinese brick kilns.
My ife swears blind that she never gave anyone our address, but they keep turning up. They mistakenly think we are a station on some underground railway for escaped slaves, and will help them get back to their beloved North Korea.
They are wracked with nostalgia for grass soup, roast tree stump, placenta stew, bird dung omelettes.
If you want to buy all 27 for your organ bank, I'm open to any reasonable offers.
posted by Hugh Cook at 10:16 PM
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