The Crap Store


Me, calling the house on my way home: “Hey bud. I’m going to the craft store after I drop your sister at swim practice. Want to come with me?”

The Boy: “Sure!”

The Boy, as we pull into the parking lot of Michael’s Crafts: “This is where we’re going?”

Me: “Yes. I said the craft store. Where did you think we were going?”

The Boy: “I thought you said The Crap Store.”

Me: “And what did you think they would have at The Crap Store?”

The Boy: “I have no idea. That’s why I wanted to go.”


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