Maybe we’re just being paranoid, but we think that you guys up there are eavesdropping.
I might look like a useless window, but every day the home owner puts a stepladder on the landing and spends hours staring out. Gives new meaning to the phrase, “Get a Life.”
We’re in the back because we’re rejects, not good enough for the bake sale. Doesn’t she know what this does to a cookie’s self-esteem? I’m so depressed.
The woman who wrapped us at the factory said that we would be lovingly used for food. She probably says that to all the bowls. Clearly, we’re going to be dirty-water catch basins. I’m going to report that woman.
No, that’s a fine approximation of a haunted tree, Godfrey. The reason I’m not scared out of my mind is that it’s 10:00 a.m.