I picked you up at 8pm sharp. We ate pizza and caught a movie. On our way home, vampire-ninjas attacked the car and stole the road map and your Queen's Greatest Hits CD. Our car spun off into a ditch, uncovering the angry reanimated corpse of Jimmy Hoffa, who chased us through a junior high production of "Godspell". After the cast party, we all agreed that that their previous production of "Flowers for Algernon" was MUCH more intriguing, but Hoffa's corpse said that out loud which angered the drama club, and we were forced (again) to flee for our lives.
Seeking refuge in an all-night grocery, I bought us coffee and two donuts. But you inhaled the powdered sugar as you tried to bite yours, and the reaction forced you to sneeze, cough, and gasp simultaneously. Your head ricocheted through the plate glass storefront, and bounced off the hood of an idling police car.
So now your parents are here, wondering why you spend time with me, let alone where your damned head is. What to say?
2007-08-26
17:33:00
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22 answers
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asked by
Anonymous