A beautiful (windy) day at the beach. Mrs Piddlington stands before the tossing waves, smiling gamely as her loving sister fiddles with a camera. Shortly before the shutter clicks (assuming digital cameras have a shutter, what do I know) Mrs P falls over into the sand.
Mrs P: (Standing up, shaking sand out of her clothes.) Ah! I have sand in my pants.
Ma Smash: Oh, that’s nice, Jennie. Make sure you get a good picture of your sister’s SAND … BOX.
Truly, there’s no hope for me.
2 thoughts on “At the Beach With Ma Smash”
It’s just a “Y” away from sandy box and really, we shouldn’t have those kinds of trains of thought. They’re just unseemly.
Ah yes. I am so graceful.