How do I keep coming up with ways to explain things?

  In a town called Mirrorville—where every surface was suspiciously reflective and everyone somehow looked amazing at all times—lived the most “perfect” family anyone had ever seen… according to themselves. At the top of the throne (yes, an actual throne) sat Grandmother Grandiose, who referred to herself as “the blueprint of excellence.” “I don’t age,” she would announce, adjusting a crown she bought herself. “Time ages around me.” Below her sat Father Grandiose, who had inherited not only her cheekbones but also her Olympic-level talent for making everything about himself. “Did you hear about my promotion?” he would say at literally every event, including funerals. “It’s not official yet, but spiritually, I’ve already accepted it.” Then there was Mother Golden Child, whose life mission was to maintain the illusion that everything was perfect—even when the house was metaphorically (and sometimes literally) on fire. “We are a happy family,” she would whisper through clenched teeth ...