
During recess at Maplewood School, three boys were gathered by the monkey bars, locked in a fierce debate not about superheroes or video games this time, but about whose dad was the tallest.
Tim puffed out his chest. “My dad is so tall, he doesn’t climb ladders. He just reaches up and changes the streetlight bulbs with his bare hands!”
Bob scoffed. “Please. My dad is so tall, when he stretches in the morning, birds land on his shoulders thinking he’s a tree.”
Little Johnny leaned against the slide, nibbling on a biscuit and listening patiently. Then he looked up at Bob and asked casually, “So when your dad stretches that high… does he ever touch the clouds?”
Bob grinned. “All the time! Says they feel soft, like cotton.”
Johnny nodded thoughtfully, then smirked.
“Yeah… that’s my father’s balls.”
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