My dad grew up in a very poor family, poor to the point that they lived on ration cards. His dad, Grandpa Billy, worked third shift so he would sleep during the day, leaving his five hungry boys to roam unsupervised. Because of this, Grandpa Billy would wrap his meal in aluminian foil which he would decorate with a skull and cross bones and the word “poison”.
One night after small-group, our friends gave Ansa a piece of cake which she decided to save for the next day. Since our dad tends to go on midnight strolls (during which he eats anything that “calls” him, as he claims), Ansa attempted to save her treat by writing the words “Poison Ansa” on the plastic wrap which covered the slice of goodness. My mom found it in the oven the next day. 😂
