A Really Bad Thing

We were driving into town, all five of us packed tight in our little Prius, when Hal made an announcement.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, dear.”

“If I pooped in my pants, that would be a really bad thing. If I pooped in my pants.”

Daddy: “You know what else would be a really bad thing, Hal?”

“What?”

“Hitting your face with a hammer.”

Hal: “Well, you know what else would be a really bad thing? Hitting your butt.”

Daryl: “No, a really bad thing would be farting in the car.”

Jane: “A really bad thing would be to provoke a shark.”

Daryl: “No, you know what would be a really bad thing? Attacking the Pentagon and trying to destroy it all by yourself. That would be a bad thing.”

Hal: “You know what would be a really bad thing?”

Daddy: “Coming up with really bad things?”

Hal: “No. Hitting someone’s house and smashing their Christmas tree and then farting around it and hitting your butt. That would be really awesome.”

The conversation degraded from there as only conversations with either children or drunk adults can do.

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