Thursday, November 26, 2015

Happy Thanksgiving!



I gnawed on a biscuit. It tasted vaguely of yeast and biscuit. 

"It's the love story of the century. Mom got a phone call from the police station. Collect call from a friend of a friend. Illegal immigrant, some small-time dealer and coyote. And that's how she met your dad."

"Cousin Danny's out of jail. Remember him? He tried to blow up his wife by blowing up his house. He ended up just mostly blowing up himself. And the house. That's gone too."

"...wait a minute! That was one of our relatives??"

I got another biscuit.

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