It was a quiet Sunday morning when all of the sudden I heard a commotion in the kitchen. Is Susan making breakfast? I wondered. I got out of bed to find Farmer Small running across the kitchen table, yelling at an enormous cucumber.
"Where did this come from?" he screamed.
"Where did he get a gun?" asked Susan.
"The cucumber is from the Grumpy Farmer, and I'm not totally sure where he got the gun - maybe from my sister."
"No guns in the house," said Susan as she left me to deal with the situation
" I have rights," yelled Farmer Small.
"Actually," I said, "you don't. You need a license for a gun and you're not a person so you can't have a gun license."
" I am so a person." said Farmer Small.
This ought to be good, I thought. "Explain that."
"I incorporated myself, and corporations are people my friend, and people can have gun licenses!"
I mulled that over as I considered everything else that was on my mind. The band was holding auditions this morning in my house and I needed a shower before they arrived; my dog can't spell, which I didn't realize was a deficit with dogs until recently; and I was competing in a scavenger hunt with 27 extremely smart and competitive women this afternoon and had to bring my best game. Farmer Small continued to stare at me defiantly. I decided to bring out my own big guns.
"Who is in charge here?" I asked him.
"Susan," he said.
"Right." I said "And what did she say?"
"She said no guns in the house."
Farmer Small was not happy. He kicked the cucumber as he walked by it, and muttered something uncomplimentary at me in his tiny voice. I hope his day gets better.