After a recent storm – which necessitated the purchase of bags-o-ice, one such bag had to be unceremoniously jettisoned from the freezer in order to make room for artisanally crafted vodkas and the like –
“ANY-way!”
Yes, anyway, the Exiled Ice Bag did, in certain slants of light, look, on the porch, like The Smee.
“Hello, Mr. Sm---. Oops!”
“Mister, that’s a tricky bag of ice. I thought it was The Smee!”
“Mister, he want us to think that!
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