And he sits next to a kid named Prenter

(While I’m out of the country, I’m reposting some content from my archives. This one was originally published in the fall of 2006 when my niece was pondering romance.)

“She’s got a crush on a guy in her class. Get this, his name is Brackin.”



“What do you mean, Brackin?”

“I mean Brackin as in bric-a-brackin.”

“That is not his name.”

“It is! And you know what’s even better? HE IS NOT THE ONLY ONE IN THEIR CLASS WHO HAS THAT NAME.”

“It’s like the conjugation of a verb gone terribly wrong.”

“Something like, ‘I have done brackin the suspension on my pick-up so that when I tie a rope to the bumper and try to pull my goat out of the mud, it don’t git all messed up.”

“Exactly. You brack, you bracked, you have bracked, duh.”