It wasn’t the snickerdoodles — it’s just — the wording — Cookies for Satan — on those big, giant, huge posters — gave the wrong idea.  We didn’t sell any.  But — at least — that homeless man standing next to us — on the corner — near the bus stop — had a nice snack. And — at least — that reporter lady — getting off the bus — stopped — and talked to us. Thanks to her  — two weeks later — in rural, southern Maryland — Satan was saved.

Nobody will know, my twin sister said.  Could be fun, I said.

We were both wrong.

Not about the whole twin-switcheroo-thing — that’s just what twins do.  It’s a fact!  It’s just — we should have started with something simpler, less complicated — something that would not make the evening news or the morning paper.

Satan was an unbelievably HUGE-GIANT-ANGRY-MEAN former Park Police horse.  Probably should have warned my twin sister about that triple bolted gate.  But — my 8th grade Work Internship —  at the stables — did not normally involve cleaning the stalls or the horses.

Metal does not belong in the microwave.  

Trust me — it doesn’t.

Not sure why I thought that can of Beefaroni was different.  That’s how the microwave — in the kitchen– at the nursery school — where my twin sister had her 8th grade Work Internship — went — KABOOM!