Thankfully, in the circle of life, there are times when the scales of justice come into alignment. Several weeks before Halloween, it was this very fellow who, in the middle of tossing a closet, discovered a box he’d hidden long ago. It was a roll of trick toilet paper. You know, the kind you can’t tear? Yeah. That.
With a wicked chuckle, he carefully positioned it, gleefully anticipating the look on the poor schlub’s face who would find himself stranded. Only to find, hours later, that he was the one stranded. To quote his Grandpa Yoder, “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
See what I mean? See? Now you know why the Schrocks don’t need to celebrate Halloween. Oh, costumes would be fun, sure. In fact, I think it would be fun to dress up as the Trumps. Mr. Schrock could be The Donald, wearing a wig with that combed-over swirl and the signature Trump scowl. I could be Ivana or whoever the newest Trump woman is, wearing all kinds of bling and heels.
He’ll never do it, so I’m not holding my breath over that. I am holding my breath, though, over what trick will come next. That, and updating the will while putting in phone calls to some grandparents to see if they’ve changed their minds about shared custody. Hey. A girl can hope, can’t she?