I keep finding all these dead raccoons in my basement. I think it's God's weird way of saying, "Hey, Rusty, let's cool it with the Teddy Grahams. I mean, four boxes in a weekend? Christ."
Of course, God's referring to my weekly owl-hunting trips with my cousin Luke. Luke has a tendency to get us all baked on White Widow before we head out at midnight, and by that time we're starving because it's already been about six hours since dinner. Not to mention the whole munchies thing. So, instead of eating a normal meal, we've been tearing into the Teddy Grahams lately. Sue us.
God may have a point here, though. I have noticed that I've gained about seven pounds over the past month. He probably knows I've got that company picnic coming up, and I have to look good in my jams.
He's always looking out for me like that.
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