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"My Mother And The Fly"

It was my mother's birthday.
She was quite old, but her hair had never turned gray.
She dyed it red all her life.
She was a sweetheart,
and we wanted to do something she'd enjoy.
She was always classy, even when we were broke.
She was artistic, had good taste, and dignity.

We took her to a great expensive restaurant
down near Cypress Gardens.
The place is filled with real antiques,
and the rest rooms have gold faucets.
It has its own landing strip for big shot customers like Merv Griffin.
But even the highest class restaurant can get a fly,
and we got one.

The fly seemed to hang around my mother's head.
She was trying to keep her poise, but it was driving her nuts.
I told the waitress,
who brought an old fashioned metal screen fly swatter,
and tried patting my mother gently on top of the head with it.
Of course the fly found this very refreshing.
You can't swat a fly with dignity.

The screen mesh of the swatter
got caught in the top of my mother's hair.
She laughed, a little embarrassed,
but she had a good sense of humor.
The top piece of her hair was a false attachment she wore
to prevent her roots from showing.
The hair piece started to come off, the fly was getting excited,
and we were all breaking up. It was like a Three Stooges scene,
and we couldn't stop laughing about it for a week.

It was the best birthday party I ever went to. 

Copyright  May 26, 2001 by Jack Blanchard. All rights reserved.


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