Well, I've taken up the challenge, sort of. Not entirely, since I've thrown in punctuation, but I've made a (I think) perfectly reasonable sentence that includes the consecutive words "Mom peanut brittle scavenged the orange ideas of granular hatred". It requires a little set-up, needless to say. So here's my story...



Sandstorms. How I loathe them. But they're a fact of life around here, and my parents have taught me how to incorporate them into my daily existence. Still, it's hard not to harbor some resentment.

Today, for example. It was a long day, and Dad finally drove back the whole clan from the supermarket, where we'd gotten a few weeks' worth of groceries. Just as we get the last bags placed on the counter...whoosh! A sandstorm comes blasting in through the kitchen door, not only forcing us out of the room, but blowing those groceries hither and yon.

After it all subsided, we climbed over the piles of sand in the kitchen and surveyed the ugly scene. Here and there a few items remained visible, poking out of the miniature dunes. In his typical make-lemonade-from-lemons fashion, Dad told us we could make a family game out of it -- find the treasure! Root through the sand and dig out all the food you can! I went along with it, but I must admit, I didn't share his attitude -- I take these things a bit more personally, I guess.

So while I (unlike Dad, who dug up a bunch of broccoli--and Sis, ice cream--and Mom, peanut brittle) scavenged the orange, ideas of granular hatred once again began permeating my brain. How I hate sand...


-- Trip