Today I relaxed at home as we honored Mr King and what he stood for. I laid frozen on my couch as my drool accumulated on my pillow and doritos were lodged in my chest hair. I was startled by a sound not heard in recent years.
It was the sound of children at play in my backyard. As I rose from my deep crusted eyeball hungover trance I was in disbelief. I looked out my unwashed cracked rear sliding door with broken window treatments and saw what I believed to be youngsters enjoying the outdoors and simply having fun.
I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation at first. I called the local fire department and they said unless a child is on fire there was nothing they could do. Next was a call to the police and they said unless one of the little bastards were committing a crime, there was nothing they could do. Next I called the director of “Children of the Corn” and asked for Malachi. He instructed me he was on his way to slice my pinky toe off and feed it to his chickens. So naturally I was spooked.