Returning home from Georgia, I walked into my bedroom, expecting to step onto my soft sheep skin rug, but instead felt a cold thin crackling piece of paper at my feet.
It read:
Written over a printed photo of my sheep laying on somebody else's carpet. The horror.
Then a few days later, I received another ransom note with my sheep being held above the toilet. A boy coodie invested apratment no doubt.
I'll find you my little sheep - if my name ain't Bo Peep. But in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy Paul McCartney's rendition of my great loss.
4 comments:
So, does this escalate?
You're right. I don't even want to think about what germs are on that toilet.
Wouldn't an experienced kidnapper remember to include a list of their specific demands instead of just vaguely mentioning that they have some?
Has to be a nasty boy... did you count the empty TP rolls on the back of the toilet? Let me know if you need an "extraction" done. I'm really good at that.
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