| To begin with you need a plan and some money for new shelves. Not just any shelves, but the kind that are made of old rotten athletic shoes. I had dozens of them, piled everywhere! They smelled like rotting potatoes. It was horrible. I tried to scoop them up with a long-handled metal scythe that we got from Reapers 'R' Us. It worked better when you wore a long black hooded cloak and said "Muhahaha!" when you used it. The neighbors saw us, and said "You are so dumb. Don't you know how to do anything?!! This is the way to do it: First, stack up the ammo boxes you have scattered all over the floor. How can you expect to be able to deal with the revenooers properly if all your ordnance is in such slaphappy disorder? Put them back into the empty egg cartons where they will be safe. Then put the egg cartons on top of the crates of rockets that we got from GI Joe's military surplus. For the love of all that's holy, don't bump them! That's a good egg. Now also watch out for jugs of dirty car oil, because if you were to accidentally kick one over, your foot would probably end up kicking the butt of somebody who just wandered into your garage and started messing everything up. And when you do, tell him, ' Stop spilling used cat litter on the garage floor!'" No one wants to clean up smelly piles of rags soaked in gasoline, which I used to have as a collection when I went to college. I really could not bear to throw away all those memories. Perhaps I could store them in a large milkshake from Chick-Fil-A. While we were there we also ordered a pizza to be delivered but when the deliveryman came, instead of a pizza he brought a box full of chocolates. As he opened them, he said, "Mama used to say life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you might find under all those boxes." In fact, down on the floor in the far corner, I found a reason to live again! Now I'll never have to hunt for a tool again! Because now there is a place for everything and everything is in its final stages. There was no time for making pizza. We are running out of time! We want to get all this cleaned up and haul all the junk to the Gloucester Short Lane ice cream parlor, where we ate so much we could barely fit in our newly-reorganized garage. Mmmm.... ice cream.... THE END! |