Oh, The Stories I Could Tell
Been so busy lately, as usual. And I’ve built up a few things I’d like to tell you about. The problem is, when I do have a free moment, which story do I tell?
Should I tell you about another strange scene I saw in a crosswalk while driving home?
Should I tell you about the inferno I put out saving my family and my house? (Granted, this one is not nearly as dramatic as that sentence makes it seem.)
Should I tell you about the mystery tortoise who showed up on my patio on Thursday?
Should I tell you about the sharks I saw while surfing last Friday? (Yes, that is correct – plural. Sharks.)
Tell us a story, balladeer. Tell us the story of the noble knight of renown who won the hand of the fair virginal maiden by slaying the dread shark of ill omen. Shark of ill omen, I say!
I vote for crosswalks or sharks since I know the inferno story – and I come out looking pretty darn lame in that one.
I agree with Miranda – crosswalk or sharks. If Miranda is involved in the inferno, I can already fill in the blanks.
Actually the sharks were quite amiable, even offering me a scone on my way out of the water.
Were the sharks at least of ill repute? Ill breeding?
Here’s hoping that those sharks weren’t back this week and having a nibble on your recently needle-pricked arm!
Sharks…
Did the sharks have ill-gotten gains? Did they eat George Gaynes?