Last Christmas Eve, my dad and I went out on a walk around the neighborhood after dinner like we always do. We were goofing around with an unstrung tetherball when his wedding ring fell off. We didn't notice it at the time, though, or there wouldn't be a story here.
When we got home, he started getting all agitated and saying 'My ring is gone! My ring is gone!' So we retraced our steps back to the grade school we had gone over to. We looked everywhere. Seriously. I even tried to get on a roof. I've done it before. It's not hard. All you have to do is...
...okay, I'm getting sidetracked.
So, finally, he says he can just get a new one made. He started walking home, all depressed. I said to myself, 'Okay, time for a little divine intervention.'
And then I looked down. There was a shiny thing in the puddle at my feet. It was his ring. He didn't lose it with the tetherball, he lost it when we were arm wrestling, which makes sense. So then I ran towards him in slow motion through the snow in a touching scene, humming the Superman theme song.
Now, some might say that finding that ring was an act of God. These are the people who say that God causes earthquakes 'cause he's mad at Haiti. But I'm not gonna get into the whole thing, though. I'm SO done with that.
Bye!
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