Peter Pockets

We have a ping pong table in the basement. In fact, my father cares about ping pong so much that he bought a ping pong server just so he can play against the machine instead of be disappointed with the poor athletic acumen of his offspring. We also have a washer and dryer in the basement. And because we don't care for ping pong as deeply as my father, we often dump the contents of our pockets there when we're about to do laundry. It's not uncommmon to find tissues, spare change, little plastic toys, and scraps of paper on the ping pong table after one of us has done laundry. I like to scoop up the change and keep it for myself.

This morning, I went downstairs to finally claim my clean clothes from the dryer after four days and discovered these items on the table. I think they belong to my brother:

An old hatchet. A plastic bag. An orange CD case in three pieces. An unopened envelope containing what is presumed to be a bill. And the top two tips of some decorative and harmless spear. A black leather belt. A fork. And a copy of WIRED magazine.

He must have really big pockets.