At Least It Wasn’t a Watermelon
posted at 7:19 pm
on Mar. 7, 2012
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My sister went out recently to the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra. She got all dolled up, and put on her fur coat. (It was my grandmother’s, so please don’t throw red paint at your screen.)
She wears it rarely, and it had been a few months since the last time she’d had it on.
As she donned it, she noticed that the right pocket had a bit of a heft to it. A little smile escaped her lips: there was obviously some treasure she’d left in the pocket from last time.
What could it be? A twenty dollar bill? Too light. A lump of gold? Too heavy. A kitten? Probably not, but it could be ANYTHING at this point—a mystery made and revealed all at once.
She jammed her hand into the pocket anxiously…
... and jammed her finger directly into a wet, rotted apple, held together only by its wrinkled skin.
Mystery solved.
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Introducing Wallabee, a Funner Geo-Game than Gowalla
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Our Bodies, Our Digital Selves
