anne frank lives
June 10, 2009
You know how sometimes, you make a joke, and you realize right after the words are out of your mouth, whoops, maybe you shouldn’t have joked about serial killers, or, you know, horrible suffering or death?
Well, sometimes you just have to go for it. Sometimes the Holocaust joke KILLS. (Ha.)
Kim n me n the crew went to a Luau party the other night, and as the evening wore on and the rest of the guests trickled away and we sat on the couch, wondering what to do next.
I don’t know who suggested it, but once it was out there, playing sardines was inevitable, even though the Lava Flows we’d been drinking were the non-loaded, family friendly variety. I think.
We didn’t even ask Adam and Kacy, who’s house we were in, if it was okay–we just sent someone off to hide, waited a few minutes, and headed off to look for him. Or her.
At one point, several of us had found the hider in a dark bathroom, door closed, lights out, and we could hear the lagging searchers out in the hall, whispering, wondering, searching. For us.
And Rick said, in a whisper, but loud enough for all of us squashed in the room to hear him, “I feel like Anne Frank.”
Is that one of those “you have to be there” jokes? I don’t know if it is. What I DO know is that every time I think of it, I laugh out loud. Totally giving myself away, all over again.