“Say what?”
“She’s got to start sewing.” He had a portfolio of drawings
under his arm and looked exactly like an excited Norman Rockwell, complete with
pipe. “We’re going to have abundant possessions.”
“You mean we’re going to be rich?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Not again.”
He clenched his pipe between his teeth. “Can’t miss this
time. Want in?”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. What’s going to make us
abundantly blessed this time?”
“Halloween costumes,” he said, pointing to his drawings. “I
have all the designs right here.”
“Halloween costumes?” I took a deep breath.
“Just in time for the elections.”
“What have the elections got to do with Halloween?” I said.
This was taking an ominous turn.
“Synergy,” he said, “that’s the interaction or cooperation
of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined
effect greater than the sum of their separate effects …”
“I know what synergy is,” I said, “but how does it link
Halloween and the elections?”
He looked at me as if I had just asked why the sky gets dark
at night. “Fear,” he said. “Haven’t you heard? Fear is the dominant campaign
theme of our party.”
“Your party,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said. “We’ve got white people shaking in
their boots with fear and my idea will cinch it.”
“C.W.,” I said. “Sometimes you disappoint me.”
“Lookit,” he said, pulling a sheet from his packet. It was a
drawing of a costume made to look like President Barack Obama in a mullah
outfit holding a sword and bloody head in one hand and a candy bag in the other
that said “Give me your riches, or else.”
“Christ,” I said, “Put that thing away.”
He let it fall to the floor and retrieved another. It was a
drawing of a costume that would fit over a young child and resulted in a
seven-foot likeness of Michael Brown with a sign that said, “Give me your
daughter, or die.”
“Clever, eh?” he said.
“Disgusting,” I said.
This time he looked a little disappointed, but he discarded
it and pulled out another. It was a girl’s outfit this time—a red dress,
high-heeled red shoes, and a Nancy Pelosi mask. She was holding a big beaker
labelled “Ebola juice. Will trade for candy.”
“Out,” I said. “Out. And don’t return until you’ve come to
your senses.”
“But wait,” he said, “you haven’t seen ‘Hillary Viper’ or ‘Pit
Bull Biden’ or ‘Creepy Crawley Carter’ or “Rob A Manwewill’ or ..”
“Out,” I said.
 |
|
"From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggety
beasties and
things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!" - Scottish Prayer
Said to be one of the oldest examples of your
written English language. - C.W.
|
I guess I yelled it this time for a voice came from the next
room, “You two better quieten down in there,” it said, “I’m working on a project.”
“She’ll be on my side,” C.W. said. Then he yelled out in his
sweetest voice. “Whatcha working on, Mizz BD?”
“An idea for a Halloween costume,” she said.
“See,” he said, smirking at me, “she’ll be my partner in
this.” The he yelled back. “I’ll bet it’s a good one,” he said. “What do you
call it?”
“Bawling Boehner Bones,” she yelled back.
Be sure to click an ad so we can eat.
And check out www.wattensawpress.com
- C.W.
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