Saturday, September 17, 2011
I told him I always polish the blood off after pillaging and that it would just sever the tree right in half due to its finely honed double-sided blade. He said I should get it out and show it to him. Right now.
I said that I kept my broad sword in the basement of our apartment building.
He said we should go down and get it.
I said that it was locked up down there.
He said, somewhat disdainfully, to just remember to take the key down with us.
I said that after, ummm, 7:10pm on Friday the guards close down the basement for the whole weekend. No entry until Monday morning.
He said it was only 7:12 and maybe we could act all nice and the guard would let us in.
I said the guards were extremely punctual and definitely not. 7:10, done.
He said then we had no choice but to get some knock-out spray, sneak up on the guard, spray him, wait for him to faint, steal the keys from his pocket, avoid the security cameras, grab my broad sword remembering to sheath it in a shoulder scabbard with golden scroll designs, and run away.
It took me a click to regain my bearings and ask him where you buy knock-out spray.
He answered probably at the spy shop where Uncle Tom got the binoculars and the secret bed hidden inside our couch.
I asked if he was hungry for bar-b-que.
He said yes.
I asked him if he thought that the bar-b-que might be made out of dinosaur meat.
He told me probably not because there was only one live dinosaur left on earth and it was at the Museum of Natural History.