My seven-year-old and I arrive at our traditional pumpkin patch. She picks out a huge, tall monstrosity.
All tagged laugh
My seven-year-old and I arrive at our traditional pumpkin patch. She picks out a huge, tall monstrosity.
My friend Gina force-feeds me crackers while I’m in hysterics, riding the climax of a bad mushroom trip.
I waved, said “Sorry,” smiled out the window, and that’s when I noticed the words he was screaming.
I tell him to chase me and ask for a ten-second running start, a real one with “hippopotamus” between the numbers.
The first bite I inhale, the second I gobble, the third I gulp past a hiccup. She frowns, but she's holding her breath too, swallowing the morsel stuck in her own throat.