“How do you like your tea? Milk, sugar, eels?”
“Okay, eels.” I say, unscrewing the cap on a carton of highly agitated eels.
“Do you expect me to talk?” He asks.
“No, Mr Bond.” I reply, loading Titanic into the Blu Ray player, “I expect you to cry.”
TELLER: The cops have you surrounded.
ROBBER *red dot zeroes in on his chest*: no no NO!
[He’s taken out by dozens of cats]
You should never text and drive. All it takes is one moment of distraction and suddenly everyone in the group chat thinks you can’t spell.
“Welcome, Mr. Bond.” I say, spinning around on my chair. My elbow catches the glass on the table and spills water all over my death ray.
RIDDLER: What belongs to you, but others use it more than you do?
ME: Every piece of kitchenware I own?
RIDDLER: Well, no, but
AMULET: Touch me, and be cursed for eternity!!
ME: [picks it up] I feel fine.
AMULET: uh, I’m trying but- I can’t make ur life any worse.
“Faster!” I yell, dropping into the bank from the open skylight.
“I’m trying!” Shouts my grandma from above, furiously knitting more cable.
Fingers in her belt loops, I pull her in for a kiss. We topple backwards, her arm falls off and a voice shouts “don’t touch the mannequins!”
We lay under the maple tree, the evening sun casting a warm glow on our faces. Turning to me, she said-
“Please stop narrating everything.”