Mashmallows are still on the lawn, even though it rained hot cocoa last night just like every other night.
I tell this to my neighbor. I say, “The marshmallows never melt.”
And my neighbor says, “Yeah, that’s how it is over here,” and a winged horse with a horn on its head appears behind him.
And I say, “Oh look, there’s a pegacorn.”
And without bothering to turn around, he says, “Yeah, they’re around.”
I ask the uber driver how he likes marshmallows.
And he says he doesn’t. Apparently, gollylanders hate marshmallows.
They dread the winter.
I say I’m surprised more people here don’t like marshmallows. I say, “I’ve only met one person who liked marshmallows.”
And the driver says, “I have not met that person.”