... the inline skater, who had been captured by the Salvation Army volunteer down the street. The volunteer had a very firm grip on the youngster's ear, and only let go after the petty thief was all the way into the restaurant. The youngster tapped Muffy on the shoulder, handed her the ill gotten purse, mumbled "Sorry, ma'am", then disappeared into the afternoon sunlight. The volunteer smiled sweetly, curtsied, and went back to trolling for juvenile delinquents.
Muffy, confused by this turn of events, was grateful to have her purse back, but couldn't help but wonder how Chuck had rid himself of the two policemen who were now quietly finishing their coffee and donuts at the counter. She also couldn't remember Chuck's leaving the restaurant after the little fracas, but things were happening so fast that it all seemed a blur, anyway.
And, wait ... Tony Blair! Didn't he break his arm? What happened? Did the paramedics come and take him away? "Boy, this story is moving awfully fast. I better have some yogurt", thought Muffy.
Then, she remembered the limo, and the person who got out just as the inline skater stole her purse! "Goodness!", thought Muffy. "Why, how did she get in this story? I haven't seen her since that Packers game last year. She made such a fool of herself with that wedge of cheese plopped on top of her head. Poor thing didn't even know you were supposed to buy the FAKE cheese. Her hat smelled pretty bad by the end of the game. Now, what was her name again?"
Relieved that his restaurant had settled back down to near normal chaos, the owner watched carefully as the events that unfolded nearly wrecked the entire moral thread of the readership of this fine story.
[Author's note: OK, "E" ... the stage is set. Now, do your thing ... whatever it is. Just remember, your granddaughter reads this thread.]
[Editor1: Well, I, for one, am NOT going to edit her material. She insulted us. Let her eat cake!]
[Editor2: Yeah ... what he said! Wait ... what kind of cake?] |
