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Two Autobiographical Stories My Son Inexplicably Asks Me to Retell

Nate is utterly rapt when I tell him these stories, and he wants me to tell them again and again and again. I know not why, my liege. Note that I am telling the below stories the same way I tell them to my three-year-old son. Don’t expect Faulkner.

1. Once, when I was a little boy, Grampa Kelly took me to a haunted house. We came to one room that was dark and filled with cobwebs, skeletons, and other Halloween decorations. Suddenly a man came running out of a door in the back of the room. He was wearing a mask, holding his hands over his head, and screaming, “ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGH!”

But I just stuck out my hand. He stopped, looked at it, and then shook my hand. And I wasn’t afraid at all.

[Note: He was actually waving an axe around, but I figured that might be too scary for Nate at this point.]

2. I was at church this morning. When mass was over I started to leave, but as I approached the doors they suddenly opened, and a spaceman walked in. I knew it couldn’t be a spaceman, because what would a spaceman be doing in church? It turned out it was Ms. Jess, and she was wearing a motorcycle helmet. It was big and round and had a dark glass front, so that’s what made me think it was a space helmet for a moment. Spacemen in church? Ridiculous!