A Fistful of Conkers

A lovely warm day for October and we sat outside for lunch and I didn't even want to play football for fear of overheating.
Everyone loves my new tennis-ball haircut and they were talking to me about it and fondling it all day long.
I took off my shirt for the homeward journey and was still hot so I had a snack and put shorts on for the unexpected park visit, summoning Ben to help.
Leyton and Zak and other acquaintances were already there but I was the only shirtless shouter. He laughed at me when I fell head-first down the slide and I did come off my scooter on the way home but we still got a solid hour of Lego before Beavers, in which we made even more paper aeroplanes.
Our meeting place is on the mezzanine level of an extant church so one of the gruesome legacies is a little jesus on a cross, about a foot high, 7 feet off the ground at the back of the hall behind the stacked-up plastic chairs.
Ben and I spoke special pagan magic words into our paper planes and whizzed them at jesus at close range, in order to bring him back to life. Might be a bit of a shock, being reincarnated as a seriously damaged miniature humanoid with blue children raining missiles upon him, I suppose if he could learn a musical instrument at least he could become an 8-inch pianist.
Incidentally, I have a bucket of conkers from the weekend's activities, for I am bonkers about conkers. I believe I have hit upon a sure-fire way of selling them for Lego-money. If I thread them all together, I can make those trendy car-seat covers that everyone loves so much, as they are groovy and fashionable.
Furthermore, for a truly tectonic-plate-smashing value-add, why don't I niche-market them to arachnophobes? No spiders on these babies.
Even furthermore, if Spiderman fitted these car seats in his Spidermobile, would he fade and die, like Superman with a Kryptonite necklace? Also, if Batman got a bit peckish, could he gobble up the squished insects from the radiator grille of the Batmobile? Just asking.