Story #215
R. Linda:
I sat there, the fumes from the manure totally oblivious to me. I had been inhaling them for quite some time. Tonya took a whiff of the blankie and said, "Oh my God, Mom, you don't want this. It smells of cow manure. Speaking of which, Gabriel . . . " she inclined her head at me and then towards the shower.
"OH," I understood immediately. I smelled like cow dung, and here I was, sitting on the furniture, smelling like a barn animal, a lot of barn animals. "But me tea . . . " I stammered.
"For God's sake, Gabriel, go shower," the Dragon hissed at me. Then, to Tonya, she said, "That blanket smells of cow manure. How is that possible?"
Reluctantly, I put down me untouched tea and, with head down, shoulders slumped, marched meself off for a shower like a wee child. Once in the hot, steamy shower, I revived enough to plot in me head ways of offing the Dragon-in-law. But that was cut short when SHE came into the bathroom without even a knock or care that her son-in-law was au naturale.
"Gabriel, I had a thought, my daughter is allergic to red food colouring. I am surmising that O'Hare is, too, and it wasn't the sugar in the Jell-O. It was the red dye."
I did not believe this conversation was taking place. WHO DOES THAT? She sat herself down on the edge of the toilet seat, teacup in hand and started telling me about Tonya's childhood experiences with red food dye number 40. I was lathered up, and the shampoo on me head was slowly drifting downward towards me eyes. I didn't know what to say or do.
Finally, I asked her to please give me some privacy. We will discuss Tonya's allergy later.
"As you wish, but think about it. I think that's O'Hare's problem," she said. Then she left, leaving me with stinging shampoo in me eyes. I found meself dancing around in the shower, trying to get the soap off without slipping. Then I realised she was drinking me tea!
R. Linda:
I sat there, the fumes from the manure totally oblivious to me. I had been inhaling them for quite some time. Tonya took a whiff of the blankie and said, "Oh my God, Mom, you don't want this. It smells of cow manure. Speaking of which, Gabriel . . . " she inclined her head at me and then towards the shower.
"OH," I understood immediately. I smelled like cow dung, and here I was, sitting on the furniture, smelling like a barn animal, a lot of barn animals. "But me tea . . . " I stammered.
"For God's sake, Gabriel, go shower," the Dragon hissed at me. Then, to Tonya, she said, "That blanket smells of cow manure. How is that possible?"
Reluctantly, I put down me untouched tea and, with head down, shoulders slumped, marched meself off for a shower like a wee child. Once in the hot, steamy shower, I revived enough to plot in me head ways of offing the Dragon-in-law. But that was cut short when SHE came into the bathroom without even a knock or care that her son-in-law was au naturale.
"Gabriel, I had a thought, my daughter is allergic to red food colouring. I am surmising that O'Hare is, too, and it wasn't the sugar in the Jell-O. It was the red dye."
I did not believe this conversation was taking place. WHO DOES THAT? She sat herself down on the edge of the toilet seat, teacup in hand and started telling me about Tonya's childhood experiences with red food dye number 40. I was lathered up, and the shampoo on me head was slowly drifting downward towards me eyes. I didn't know what to say or do.
Finally, I asked her to please give me some privacy. We will discuss Tonya's allergy later.
"As you wish, but think about it. I think that's O'Hare's problem," she said. Then she left, leaving me with stinging shampoo in me eyes. I found meself dancing around in the shower, trying to get the soap off without slipping. Then I realised she was drinking me tea!
Gabe
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