Dad was grilling steaks in our back yard

Dad was grilling steaks in our back yard when three mean-looking drones transited our airspace. I went to get my drone-blaster, but Dad stopped me. He nodded toward their goal:

Mom, sun-bathing topless over by the pool. Sleeping. She had no clue. As the drones buzzed past our backyard again, I had to wonder why they were so interested. It wasn't as if Mom

was a Dyrubian agent. But hang on... Mom never let me in the garage and checked me with a Geiger counter if I went near it. Our cat had given birth to a kitten with 3 heads. Hmmm

this reminds me of the time I started a new school. Mr Bling the Janitor discovered my secret stash of Geiger counters. I tried to explain why I had hidden

food underneath my mattress. I mean, jeez, I have needs. What happens if I wake up and really need nachos, or worse, a philly cheesesteak? See, that's why I go

to the corner store every week and grab my favorite Sonic Certified Chili Dogs and put them in random drawers, shelves, beds, and crawlspaces, just in case I ever need to

avoid the zombie apocalypse. The sodium will preserve that crap long enough to provide "nourishment" while I lie low and let the zombies eat off their entire food source. Brains

, why don't you share some of that great intellect with the slavering masses!?" "Now, that would be stu -urk!" "No! No! Nooo! Hey... Hey, why aren't they eating me?"

I poured chocolate syrup all over myself, sprayed whipped cream on top of my head, and everything, but the goblins still wouldn't taste my flesh. Dejected, I hit the showers.