My Husband’s Name is Paris
a strange man opened that door- the worst a beautiful woman could do
- strip poker with a man-eating tiger
- my husband’s name is Paris
- reporting a raccoon
- “Cold potato soup!”
My husband’s name is Paris, which isn’t the worst a beautiful woman could do. I once dated a fellow named Albuquerque, and even that’s not as bad as strip poker with a man-eating tiger.
But this has nothing to do with Paris, or Albuquerque.
My apartment has a door I never use. Once a strange man opened that door and leaned into my apartment, reporting a raccoon was raiding the dumpster. So now I never use that door.
And yesterday, a little child trapped in my sock drawer kept yelling the same thing all day. “Cold potato soup!”
I think I should move.