Running The Housewife Gauntlet
So there’s this housewife who lives across the street from me…
So innocent in her 40-something way, right? WRONG! She is the stuff nightmares are made of. I’m like a prisoner in my own home, for when I leave, she’s there, on her porch, like the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.
“Roy!” she shrieks in delirious wonder. “Let me tell you about everything under the sun including the name of every blade of grass in the whole world and—”
“Uh,” I look around desperately. “Hey! Isn’t that Ms Marjory?”
I point at a lady covertly darting to her car a few houses away. She’s army-crawling, hoping the Housewife won’t spot her.
“Marjory!” shrieks the Housewife in delirious wonder. “Did you watch the Young and the Restless this week?? OHMYGOD I can’t believe how MAD Victor is!! Let’s talk about it!”
While she’s distracted I manage to make it to the safety of my car and lock the doors with a quickness, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off my face. I glance back at Marjory, seeing her pinned by the harpy-like mouth of the Housewife. I turn away rapidly, lest I draw attention to myself.
I’m sorry Marjory. May God have mercy on your soul.
