Mischief · Thursday November 24, 2011 by Julie
We were at the old age home. “Hey,” said Petunia. “What about if we move all the name plaques and the wreaths and stuff one door down? We could really confuse the oldsters that way, couldn’t we?”
“But what would we do with the person whose room is on the very end?” I asked.
“No problem. Put that set of nametags and wreaths and stuff on the next floor down. We could re-paint the numbers in the elevator, too. Move all the floors one floor up.”
“It might work,” I said, considering it carefully. “But, we’d have to move all the paintings on the walls one room over as well.”
“Just stop,” said Bob, his face red. “You have no right to mess with these people. They are old. They have had a hard life, some of them. Leave them in peace.”
All right, then.
