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!