A neighbor was relating a funny David story to me yesterday. He was at her house before school in the morning, and asked her for syrup for his waffles. She brought the syrup over, and David calmly commented that this wasn't Mrs. Butterworth's. As a child with autism, not having his 'normal' syrup could indeed be an issue. My neighbor did some fast thinking, and told him that it was Log Cabin, and it's OK because Mrs. Butterworth lives in the Log Cabin (brilliant!).
So, I'm telling Anna about this last night, and she dropped into a really creepy voice and said:
"Mrs. Butterworth spends her nights pacing the Log Cabin, wondering what happened to her long-lost aunt. 'Jemiiiiiimaaaah!' She cries. 'Jemiiiiimaaaaah.'"
I started laughing and then I added:
"Everyone said that boy Jack was bad news. They even took to calling him 'Hungry Jack', in a way that made your blood run cold. And when he set his eyes on Jemimah, everyone knew it'd be a sticky situation."
Oh, good God, we sat there riffing on the story, for the next twenty minutes and it got hysterical. It's good to know part of my ridiculous writerbrain has rubbed off.
She's better than me, though. Lots better.
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