By W.R. Jones
Given the infantile musings of my mind, I know exactly the thoughts racing through this toddler’s head. He is calculating the odds that he will have to let go his beloved doll to throttle that chicken.
On another note, did you ever try to back out of the garage without first opening the door? Doesn’t work well. Outside of perusing the Merck Manual to stoke my raging hypochondria, I don’t have any formal medical training, but my “man on the street” gut feel is this lapse does not speak well for my mental health.
The good news is the remaining brain cells are still capable of working as a team to scheme our way out of the expected coming spousal brow beating in the offering.
Possibilities:
1. Vandals – most likely those kids I strong armed to get their Halloween candy bags last year.
2. A self healing gas line explosion from inside the garage that blew the door out.
3. An international ring of car thieves wanting my van with 260,000 miles to sell in Mexico. They forgot to open door first, panicked, and ran.
If you have any more plausible explanations stories lies, we could perhaps discuss a fee structure agreeable to us both.
