by: Christopher Lesko
Mom: C’mon we need to get you some new slacks. They’ve got good deals going on at Sears right now.
Boy: You’re hurting my arm.
Mom: I need you to hold my hand when we cross. Could be a weed maniac zipping around the corner. People never go the speed limit in mall parking lots.
Boy hobbles behind Mom while she tugs him along. He’s fourteen years old and can probably make it on his own, but she insists on overprotecting him from weed maniacs.
Man in car sees Boy and Mom ahead. The man is a weed maniac. He puts the pedal to the metal. As he plows right into them, they pop like a lighter to a balloon. And that’s the end of the mom and boy’s story. No going to Sears for them. Ever again.
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