He Must Be Here For Easter

As I'm editing something that Wolfgang asked me to look over, he breathlessly reports via cell from the other room that the little girls are practicing walking back and forth to the car. They must be getting ready to open the door for Pope Benedict XI when he makes his annual pilgrimage to their holy grotto. Also, Codename Helga is "txting" (as the youth call it) whilst sitting in a cheap plastic chair on the porch. She suddenly scolded one of the girls, "no, you're NOT starting the car."

The stress level of the deadline I am working under is nothing compared to the legs of said plastic chair.