If You Need Me, I'll Be In My Bunker

"Did mom tell you about the WWII bomb shelter on our property?"

And so started the phone conversation I had with my sister tonight.

Here's what went down on Sunday, transcript style:

( A lazy Sunday evening in my parent's household. My sister's friend's Uncle as dinner guest--let's call him SFU...because everyone loves acronyms)

SFU: It's so strange to be here. You know, I almost bought this house in 1978 from Dr. Mona, the old owner, but I decided not to because of the old bomb shelter...wouldn't be able to build on that part of the land and all...

My Dad: The what?

SFU: You know, the WWII bomb shelter?

My Dad: You mean that shack beyond the pond?

SFU: No...the shelter...the underground shelter?? It's just beyond the shack...maybe under it.

My Dad: OH! (Flashback to 1990 when Dr. Mona tells my dad about a bomb shelter, and my father assumes he's talking about a wooden shack because 1) his english not so good, and 2) Dr. Mona is pointing towards the shack)

My Mom: What if there's treasure in there?!?!

My Dad: What if there are dead bodies in there??!

My Mom: What if the dead people were rich and are still wearing all of their jewelry?!

--At this point, my father looks over at my mother in disgust, and SFU takes his leave---

Update: My father still has not located the shelter, but (true to form) has been taking his time collecting "tools" with which to go look for it. The search is to take place tomorrow, and my mother is praying that the poor (dumb) souls who may be stuck in there had a penchant for diamonds.