“Don’t worry Doris, your keys are in there somewhere.” Teague and the rest of the hosts for the annual Half Easter Ice Cream Sandwich and Deviled Egg Soiree snickered to themselves until their tittering began to bleed from their pores and laughter shook their intestines. Teague’s best friend Burlow shattered a rib with all of his crowing about Doris and her lost keys.
Teague wiped tears from his eyes and held his face in his hands.
“Are you sure they’re down here? None of these feel very key-like to me.”
“Oh sure. Just keep feeling around.”
Teague motioned for Burlow to bring out the bucket of crickets and a legion of cackles pierced the Half Easter night.
Listening to Glass Boys and reflagging myself when I should be writing. What did I used to do before I did nothing?