Friday, October 29, 2004

Gift of The Magi Munchkins 

Why is Sally longing for a large brandy in the middle of the afternoon? Referring to herself in the third person? It's shock, I tell you. Shock.

Tara was creating so much noise as we set off to the local shops that she attracted the attention of The Evil Ones across the street. They emerged from their lair, reeling and exhuding cider fumes. She was wearing a black leather skirt and red lipstick. He was clad in a white shirt, black waistcoat and black trousers. Here's the gist of it:

Me: Hello. You look...smart. Are you going out?

Munchkins: Yes. To the Mall. (The MALL?!) Do you want us to get you anything while we're there?

Me: Um, no thanks.

Munchkins: Alex at work then? When's he back?

Me: Not for a few hou...I mean...minutes.

Munchkins: We've got something for Tara.

Apparently, the Male had in his possession a gold and diamond pin in the shape of a letter of the alphabet. His wife has the same first initial as our daughter, but she didn't like it and had decided it would look great on a four-year old (!) Refusal was futile. It was pinned to her sweater before I knew what was happening. Being a little girl with *no* aesthetic sense whatsoever, she loved it.

Me: I'm sorry, but I can't really accept this. If your wife doesn't like it, surely you can get a refund? Don't you have a receipt?

The way he looked when I said that made me wish I hadn't asked. Then I got the usual tirade from his wife:

"You look tired. You know I'll always help you out, don't you? She's such a lovely little girl. We'd love to take her out if you want to go out with Alex sometime...And you look so much like my daughter. She's seventeen now.(Christ knows what foster home or crack-den she's been living in for most of her life) You look so much like her. Remember, we're only across the road..."

Time to call the police, I think. I've never been so terrified in my life. Alex is going over there later to return the pin. Deranged people are scary.

Permalink | Pre Haloscan 7 | |

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?