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18:26:51 - 2000-04-13

(Uncle Bob's Diary is a diary written solely for adults. If you are not an adult, you won't have fun here. I talk a lot about doing your taxes and angioplasty surgery. If you are under the age of 18, and "get" Bob...you can stay but, calling a spade a spade here, you make me nervous. I wouldn't want my kids reading this diary...and I don't think your parents would appreciate you reading this diary either. I will NOT be held responsible for the downfall of America's youth. Thank yewwwwww.)

I DIDN'T DO IT!! I DIDN'T DO IT!!

Well...I got sent to the Principal's office today.

...And no...you didn't just stumble into my high school diary by mistake.

Here's the story, morning glory...

Somebody found the Golden Egg that I had hidden yesterday.

It was hidden on a playground in a park behind a local elementary school.

A park that I THOUGHT was owned by the city.

As it turns out...it's actually school property. Which...hiding the golden egg on school property is a no-no.

Since Monday, all these people have been wandering across the school property, telling people they're looking for a golden egg.

This frustrated the school principal who called damned near everyone in town to figure out why there were people on an easter egg hunt on school property without his knowledge.

So today...I go over there with some signs saying "The egg's been found, thanks for playing" on them. I was going to hang them up around the park to let people know to stop looking immediately.

I went to the front office of the school to let them know who I was and what I'd be doing there. People tend to freak out when they look out their window and see Uncle Bob skulking about, hanging flyers on trees.

I walked up to the counter, politely smiled and said to the secretary ... "Hi. I'm Uncle Bob! I'm with the Blankety Blank newspaper and I need to hang up these signs on the park out back to let people know the Golden Egg was found.

The secretary's eyes got real big and she said "Ooooooo...I gotta tell Mr. Camp...he wants to talk to you!"

Oh.

Shit.

I stood there and waited for five minutes as I watched this stern looking guy maybe a few years older than me walk around with authority. He had a cell phone jammed down the back of his pants which looked like a gun to me.

Finally, he called me back there to his office.

We shook hands and I started apologizing like I was confessing to the shooting of Kennedy on my death bed. I was just babbling non-stop, and I KNOW I said "I didn't want any part of this" at LEAST seven times, trying to extract myself from any spankings that were forthcoming.

He was really cool about it. You could tell he was glad to be talking to an adult male who wasn't holding a mop.

I discovered (but did not admit) that we had used a pretty old map when we found this park. On the map we had, it was called "Woodcrest Park".

Apparently, on the most recent map, it's not listed as anything. The principal said that was because the school's PTA purchased the property from the city a year or two ago.

Anyway...this is about as funny as my Christmas story with my sisters from this morning.

Heh. Now THAT was a hoot, Desperado.

By the way...why don't you come to your senses?

Seriously.

I took the pictures of the ultrasound to work today. I'm going to get one of them enlarged to an 8" by 10" and have inscribed on it "You'd better behave or I'm sending you to your womb!"

Then I'm going to frame it and hang it in the baby's room.

Kind of as a friendly reminder of where he came from.

And I sure as hell can send him back at any time I feel like it.

Of course...the wife wouldn't be too thrilled. Having a kid forcibly jammed back in her, feet first.

But hey...that's not my problem, now ... is it?

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