Ok, so I think I got things wrong last week when I thought I might end up in Heaven eating cookies. I forgot that my third grade teacher who was a nun told me I was going straight to Hell. I was such a darling child I couldn’t ever imagine why? Do they serve really bad cookies in hell or do they just taunt you with real good cookies just out of arms reach? You always hear about people who die and come back from Heaven and say how wonderful it was, but you never hear any bad stories of people coming back from hell. I think they (I am assuming they are disgruntled departed DMV employees), probably burn the cookies. On top of that, they probably give you a driving test over and over and over again.
Nov 11 - 17
Cookies. I appear to have made another batch that was not good enough to sell. So I am in the middle of eating 4 dozen chocolate chip cookies. I know I have a problem. I used to criticize people who were addicted to different things, but I guess now I will be more compassionate. Do you think when you get to heaven you can eat all the cookies you want? I mean, can you get fat in heaven? I have been told that God doesn’t like to be the disciplinarian and that is why most of heaven is run by departed DMV workers. We know they can be a little less friendly than our servers, but since you are afraid of what they can do you always listen to them. I can see them now coming after me to take away my cookies. Me pleading with them to not take them away, to no avail.
Nov 4 - 10
Ok, so I was going to write about how I always seem to overcook the cookies for Taylors (that way I get to eat them) when I got a call from one of my employees up there.
“Hey, um. We had a fire and I was just wondering after you use the fire extinguisher, should we throw away all the food that we sprayed?”
I responded...actually I can’t tell you how I responded because at a later date it would be in print and all of you could use it against me.
Oct 28 - Nov 3
My family won’t let me write about what goes on around here anymore. I had some great stories, if only I had an alias. I know I will go by the alias of Pierre Detecto, and I can write about my fictional family.
Like the time Pierre’s daughter hid live animals under her bed, (well they were live for a while). Then there was the time that Pierre’s drummer son had to have a 3rd drum set, in spite of the fact that Pierre was going brain deaf. Yea, that’s what I should do. Just call me Pierre, next time you see me.