God I Hate S’mores

We lit a fire tonight. In Oklahoma we always buy oak at the convenience store. It’s worse burning than the aspen we bought in Colorado. I need to find some pine.

The girls and cousins roasted marshmallows and made s’mores while a picture of football waited on the TV. I don’t like s’mores much. I don’t know why anyone would. Raw marshmallows taste incomplete and feel uncommitted. Hot or charred they become first degree burn hazards. In all constitutions they render graham crackers and Hershey bars worthless. The girls like them.

100 words on day 601