Reading a post about anny’s amazing day that must’ve been colored with crapola crayons, I was reminded of something that happened to Mr. W in Vegas after his niece’s wedding on Saturday.

Mr. W, his daughter, and I walked to his car in the parking lot of the hotel where the niece’s reception was held to find that the Jack Skellington antenna ball that he’d had on his car for the past 2 years was gone. Mr. W noticed it first and just about lost his mind. Jack Skellington is his all-time favorite character, and for the next 5 minutes his mouth was ablaze spewing forth hexes and curses of violent car accident deaths for the Nevada delinquents who had the failed social skills and the absolute lack of respect as to steal someone’s antenna ball. He ranted about how he’d had the antenna ball a year before he put it on his car because he was afraid someone would steal it but that it had remained in place for 2 years as his car identifier but one day in Vegas and this expensive irreplaceable collectible is gone forevermore. More wishes of grisly deaths for the perpetrators.
I suppose I wasn’t very supportive when I said, “So to you the proper punishment for stealing a styrofoam antenna ball is death?”
I got an earful about how it’s a rare high-quality, plastic antenna ball and not one of those abundant cheapy styro ones.
So I decided to be more supportive. I offered my and Daughter’s services, promising “We’ll jack up the jackass who jacked your Jack!”
Daughter’s laughter ended Mr. W’s rant.