“Hey!” I Cried. “You’re Not a Baby!”
“Ta-ta, love!”- zillionaire bedlam
- especially if you keep it in its wrapper
- Of all the underwear I’ve worn in my adult life,
- bro-ier and more duplicitous
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“Hey!” I cried. “You’re not a baby! Get off the stage!”
“Ta-ta, love!” Tessa shouted at him, and that opened the floodgates. Tensions were high. Every mother there wanted their child to win the talent show, and every last one of us was on edge from sitting patiently through so many “adorable” acts. I’m not saying that everyone in the theater was filthy rich, but the place erupted into zillionaire bedlam. Women yelled, babies howled and filled their diapers with angry poops, someone threw a banana, which is very dangerous, especially if you keep it in its wrapper, because when the banana inevitably splits open, you’ve got twice as many slipping hazards.
Jim leaned close and whispered, “I bet you don’t recognize Bruce Pamplemousse in that crazy get-up, do you?”
Of all the underwear I’ve worn in my adult life, none were less sweat-absorbing than the ones that came as part of my scientist costume. At the news that Bruce Pamplemousse, the even bro-ier and more duplicitous brother of evil disco king Deuce Pamplemousse, was in the same room as my many children, I started to sweat profusely and my briefs did not perform well.
I had no idea what to do next.
bonus points for using them in order