Sometimes a Ghost is Just a Ghost
People today don’t care nearly as much about the Olympics because there’s more happening.

Only a small percentage of children creep out of the house to pretend-skate on the driveway.

I have no idea why we placed so much faith in poorly drawn cartoons in odd primary colors.

Lunch boxes were metal or plastic, all the hats had pompons on top like they held brains in.

Nobody spit in the ball pit, and characters in costume rarely pinched the customers back.

I dropped my canned goods in the road and nobody scolded me, said watch the split peas.

We did not observe national pencil day, a determination of when donuts were mandatory.

Every pair of jeans looked like it was designed by a machine designed by a vengeful ghost.
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