A Broken Rose

There is a feature in the profile editor on Blogger that gives you a random crazy question, and you give an answer for it, which is then placed in your profile. I periodically change the question, just so anyone who cares to look up my profile will get a new laugh if they check it more than once. I hadn’t done that in a while, and I felt it was about time I did it again. Tonight I got a little carried away and exceeded the character limit, so instead of scrapping it, I decided to bring it here and make a blog post out of it.

When your science teacher smashed a frozen rose with a hammer, did you warm the petals to bring them back to life?

Of course not! Duh, they're dead! Naturally I gathered all the petal shards and respectfully placed them inside a small, custom-made rose coffin and held a memorial service. I invited the rose's family members, but they had all been snipped off to use as bouquets at the funeral home. So even though they had no choice but to attend the funeral of old Mr. Jenkins and his pet pig Trixie-Pie, who perished together in a tragic trapeze accident, they were able to listen from the other room as Father Juan-Carlos O'Malley beautifully eulogized their shattered sister. I did not, however, invite my science teacher. As the rose's murderer, I felt that her presence at the funeral would have just been awkward for everyone.

So after my lengthy answer was rejected by Blogger’s unimaginative and restrictive character limit, I asked for a new question. I will add it here for anyone who doesn’t feel like looking up my profile to find out what it was.

You've just inherited a manufacturing plant that specializes in plastics. What are you going to make?

A bologna sandwich and some tube socks.