It's been a few posts now since I've had a funny, so I thought I'd share with you one of the stories my friends and I were reminiscing on at the bar (see Watering Hole). Back when we were in the fourth or fifth grade one of my friends had a sleep over. This friend of mine has two younger brothers. The middle is Mike. Let's meet Mike. Mike reminds me of Ralph from the Simpsons. He's not too bright but terribly kind, and had a rather high pitched voice despite his great size. Now at the time Mike was probably in the first or second grade. And at that time Mike loved Spaghetti-Ohs. It was his favorite and he would eat massive helpings. But on the particular night of the sleep over there were no Spaghetti-Ohs to be found. I mean they were out, not a can anywhere. Nothing. And for whatever the reason, the parents happened to be away. So Mike, desperate with no where to turn, went to the only place he knew he could for help. . .
Lately I have seen a lot of articles in the news about young children or even babies calling 911, but I have not yet heard of a case quite so moving as the case of the young boy who ran out of Spaghetti-Ohs.
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