Our small town puts out a weekly 12-page newspaper
and look what was in this week's edition:
OH MY GOODNESS!!!
Phant and I could be real, actual,
Since the Police Log doesn't give an exact
date or address, we aren't for sure that this call
was regarding our Day of Trespassing.
Still, just to be on the safe side,
Phant has taken to spending his days here:
Poor Husband is quite confused as to why
he keeps finding Phant underneath our bed.
When he asks me about it, I just shrug it off and say,
"Huh, no telling when it comes to Phant.
Maybe he's got some issues?"
Let this be a lesson to us all:
Committing crimes is bad.