I’m Pissed At Braum’s

Today I went to Braum’s to buy ice cream, and what I found there was shocking! They no longer sell half-gallon tubs. The size they now offer is only three pints. Boys were not allowed to take home economics at my school, so I couldn’t tell you how many pints are in a half-gallon. I Googled it when I got home and there are four pints in a half gallon. So Braum’s is cheating you by a pint. In other words, you are getting a whole quarter less.

I haven’t bought ice cream in a while, so I’m not really sure if the price went down too, or not. All I know is I’m not happy about it. So I asked the guy at the checkout line (he looked like a smart-ass) what happened to the all the half-gallon tubs, and he actually told me aliens came and abducted them all. I’m not kidding. So I said, “Well, when the aliens are done with them, let me know so I can come back to Braum’s to buy ice cream.” Okay, I didn’t really say that because I wanted some ice cream, but I thought it. This might actually prompt me to send a letter to Braum’s headquarters.

Last time I checked, Farm Fresh still sold half-gallon tubs. Hopefully, the aliens haven’t attacked them, too.

There Is Something Wrong With My Brothers

I talked to my mom the other day and got the weekly report of what my brothers did during the week.  The last report was one of the better ones because it contained two incidents.

The first incident began when my mom heard some commotion in her bedroom and went to investigate.  She found both my brothers.  The oldest one, Alex, was stabbing holes in a shoebox with a colored marker.  Intuition told my mom that there was something in the box that should not be there.  She took the box away from them and found their kitten in there, now with blue polka dots all over it.  It was otherwise unhurt.  When she took the cat to the vet later that day to get it spayed, I’m not sure how she explained the blue spots to him.  I’ve decided Alex is going to be a serial killer.  It always starts with animal torture.

The second indicent occurred at my grandmother’s house.  It was warm outside, so mom told the boys to go out and play while she and her brother put together some furniture.  A couple hours later, they hadn’t heard a peep from the boys.  Mom’s sister went out to find them.  They were nowhere to be seen.  My mom went outside and looked, too.  She started calling for them but got no response.  As it turns out, they had climbed inside the trunk of her car, shut the lid, and couldn’t figure out how to get out.  When she found them, they were all pink and sweaty.  They had been crying.  My youngest brother, Auston, started saying “He made me do it!  I didn’t want to!”  All my stepdad said later was “I bet they don’t do that again.”  I remain unconvinced.