The horrible thing that wouldnt shut up has finally gone away! YAY!!! Twice this weekend, she walked over to me as I sat at the computer and stood less than a foot away from me stinking of a fragrance that I dont know the name of but can only describe as Dying Field of Vomit Flowers Soaked in Horse Manure. She invaded my space (She knew what she was doing) and tried to chat me up with inanities about whatever I was looking at on my monitor. I have a Jack Kirby Wall of comics on the wall behind the monitor, so she wanted to tell me what she knew about comics. Not much, as it turns out. She did let me know that her son loved comics (in a demeaning tone, no less) and that she just KNEW that I was a Marvel fan. I assured her that I am not. She wouldnt hear it. Yes, you are! I had to stop and look her in the lipstick and repeat, No. Im not. Im a collector. If you show me a Marvel comic from 2014, I may not throw it back in your face, but I will reject it. I will do so politely. The comics on my wall are Avengers #7, Avengers #12, Thor #166, Fantastic Four #100,Captain America #109, Kamandi #1, 80 pg GIANT Superman #207 and Green Lantern/Green Arrow #87. Congratulations to you if you recognize that these are not just comics to me. I have nothing on my wall that displays a little pony, Deadpool, IMAGE crap or armor clad Superman. Once it was established that I was not, in fact, her son, she asked what I thought of the Marvel and DC movies. I gave her the simplest reply I was capable of translating for her poor little peanut brain to take in. I dont like them, I lied. It was a go away and leave me alone answer, but even that didnt work. It took me beginning to cough and open the window next to me and then turning on a small fan to explain through pantomime that her odor was killing me. I think that was her job anyway. She knows Im allergic to hairy cats and even though we have one (Shes an outside beast), I do not jump into the crazy cat lady lifestyle with the glee of an abandoned Civil War era slave. Her limburger and onion aroma with just the slightest gallon of formaldehyde stench had damaged me to the point of breathlessness. So, now shes gone. Gone to that new termite restaurant in Mississippi where boards go to die. The only good thing about this weekend was the riddance, which I will savor with delight for at least a week.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Dec 2014 20:45:47 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015