167-word post, or “Father’s Day”

Father’s Day at my house was always the same.

We always gave him cards and made him breakfast and dad would let us in on what he said were “family secrets.”

For nearly 40 years, we had discovered lots of secrets: that when you pulled Dad’s finger, a magical noise happened. (Sometimes that noise had a bad smell.) We discovered that when you squeezed my dad’s nose, a magical noise happened. (Sometimes that noise had a bad smell) We had discovered that when you pulled dad’s ear, a magical noise happened. (Sometimes that noise had a bad smell)

This Father’s Day, my younger brother, who has kids of his own and was tired of learning secrets, said “Dad…? Got any secrets that aren’t just farts?”
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At that point, my dad looked at us and said “I have no secrets left to keep,” and turned into a pillar of sand.

My nephews screamed for hours, but I think that pillar of sand gag is my dad’s best work.