Ahh, today promises to be a day full of apocrypha. How so? Let’s see what I can dig up.
For one, Happy Easter! If you do not prescribe to the belief that Jesus did, in fact, rise from the dead on this day so many years ago, this is for you:
Booth: Voodoo, who’s going to believe that stuff?
Brennan: It’s a religion, no crazier than… what are you?
Brennan: They believe in the same saints you do, and prayer. What they call spells, you call miracles. They have priests.
Booth: We don’t make zombies.
Brennan: Jesus rose from the dead after three days.
Booth: Jesus is not a zombie. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.
Or, perhaps on a day like today, you’d just like to bask in the beautiful spring weather and have a little laugh:
One other tidbit of fable before moving on to the original intent of this post? Sure, why the heck not? Finally, after months of living together, Anne and I succeeded in having a telepathic conversation last night. It was one of the coolest experiences we’ve shared. It went something like this:
Oddly enough, I was the one, for once, playing the role of Ted and not Barney. (Barney => Neil Patrick Harris => Anne)
Anyways: The FIRE LADDER STORY!!!
Let me take you back to a time not so very long ago. A time of the Snowpocalypse. It was a cold, blustery Friday night and the gang was gathered around 202B. We had promised ourselves that on one of our many snow-days we would take the advice of Ellen’s mother and test our fire ladder. It wasn’t a very unnerving prospect – we only live on the second floor, after all. So, with not so much ado, we unravelled the ladder from the front window. All was going according to plan until we realized that the window sill was to wide for the ladder to safely latch into place. I vehemently opposed anyone testing it while it was so flimsy – and when I’m the one in the room opposing the idea, it’s probably a bad one. But, alas, Ellen and Anne went downstairs to possibly attempt climbing up. Before either of them could step foot on the ladder (and after many passers-by stopped to gawk at us) a friendly UPD officer asked us what in tarnation was going on (okay, so those were perhaps not his exact words). He asked Ryan, who happened to be outside as well documenting the escapade what room we were in. He reluctantly relayed the information and came to visit us. Not before our friendly neighborhood stoner could barge into the suite, scaring the living daylights out of me – in attempt to find me and my extra N64 controllers. I regretfully told him that the game system was elsewhere and he blusteringly, and disappointedly, left us.
So, finally the UPD officers arrived in the room and asked us some questions. Like why, perhaps, we thought that midnight was a good time to try and use a fire ladder. We calmly explained that the test was out of parental concern and that, honestly, midnight didn’t sound like such an unreasonable time to us. It was better, was it not, than attempting the same feat at 3 in the afternoon when the courtyard and sidewalk outside our dorm would be teeming with curious students? He was nonplussed and confiscated the ladder. At least we got this out of the ordeal:
Oh, and some music for your trouble (and in apology for taking over a month to post this story – thanks for getting the picture to me sooner Ellen! Oh, and way to only have one.).