WTF, kid, it’s a book about ferrets, not a Playboy. Hmmm, maybe I’ll take a longer route home. You know, because it’s the scenic route. Bwhahahahaha. There is no such thing as the scenic route in our town. Ohhhh, look at the beautiful sunset over DSW. Seriously, that’s as pretty as it gets. Not that I haven’t bought some seriously beautiful shoes there. Anyways, no, there is another reason I’m deciding to take the longer route home, but I’m embarrassed to tell you. I’m a little scared you’re gonna think I’m a nutjob. Not that you don’t already think that, but even more of a nutjob. Okay, wait, before I explain why I take the longer route home and embarrass myself, here’s the backstory. So a few years ago, I was at a playdate and my friend and I had this conversation. BELLE: Did you hear about the boy in Springfield? ME: No. BELLE: At the hot dog place? ME: Do I want to hear? Nope, no, I do not want to hear. Because even though I’m sitting there praying she says something like, “He found a finger in his French fries”
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