Wednesday, September 2, 2009

neighborhood trauma

So I arrived home and flopped onto the couch with my feet up - the normal way for me to end my day - recovering and un-swelling. And I heard them before they got to my door, a passel of unkempt kids all under age eight or so, all who come frequently to my door - the neighborhood 'Mimi' - to show me miracles of nature, new skills on a bike or a dance move, tortured captives or just to try to solicit sweets.

The were all a-tumble this time...yelling all at once. The door bell rang furiously several times and I considered getting up. Then I heard JD say, "He's dead!" (Hear that in a very southern accent.) And then a big kafluffle of kid ejaculations. And then, "No he's not! He's upside down!"

Having no idea what it was that they were hauling to my front porch, not unlike my girl cat Walter does, when she wants to leave me a little love gift, I decided I would best stay prone. Wisdom of old age I think.


Anonymous said...

so what on earth was JD doing on your porch with something dead???

Krissi said...

Oh my goodness, Marilyn--I think that's the best thing I've heard in a long time, that you're the neighborhood Mimi. I think that's so fantastic and it makes me smile.

Marilyn said...