Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Overheard at Timmy's

Whenever Mr. M has something work related to do in the city, I regularly tag along for the hour +/- ride to make a date of it.  Whether he's taking a class, doing an interview, or sitting in a meeting, I usually find myself spending a good portion of my time sipping tea and working on a crochet or writing project at a corner table in a nearby Tim Hortons (it's a fast food coffee shop that's extremely popular here in Canada).

I also like listening in on conversations around me, because you never know what hilarious thing someone will say next!  Sometimes I just have to write a quote down.  Below are a few of my favourites from the past couple of trips to Timmy's.


Two older men sipping their double-doubles by the window.
"I recently heard a story about a comedian.  Wait, was it a comedian?  Oh right, it was Obama."

Junior High/High School tutoring session. Both females.
"OMG, you're so stupid.  Your only hope is memorizing the answers for the test and then copying mine."

Balding man in his early 50's with a large coffee in front of him.  It's roughly 10 AM.
"I don't really like coffee.  I only drink it if I have to...[more talking with his buddy, who has a small coffee]... This morning I tried a Starbucks latte.  It was really good."

A frazzled young woman in line.
"I told him, 'It's Momma to you!' and he just grinned at me and said, 'Oh Nanna, you're so funny.'"

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Table Talk

Finish That Thought #25 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: Who invited [Uncle Jasper] to Christmas dinner?
Special Challenge: Most creative use for a water pistol

Hope everyone had a heavenly Christmas!  I didn't do the special challenge this time, but you're welcome to take a shot and see where it'd fit. ;) 

“Who invited that scruffy looking stranger to Christmas dinner?” was the question on everybody’s lips tonight. It was the first time the company had seen someone not dressed in white. The stranger’s ragged clothes clung to his plump body, his hair was a snowy white, and the tangled beard rested on his stomach. He sat towards the center of the long table, his shabby attire drawing attention like a sore thumb when compared to the shining white-robed saints surrounding him.

“What’s his name, Peter?” Adam asked with his pen poised above his clipboard. He was busy checking off names on the attendance sheet.

“I don’t know,” Peter answered, a little dumbfounded. “But I sure didn’t let him in!”

“You mean someone sneaked past you at those pearly gates? You better find yourself a new job!” Andrew joked.

Abraham leaned over to his cousin Lot. “Is he from my side of the family or yours?”

“Well, we’re all technically your children,” Lot whispered back. Abraham made an “O” with his lips and went back to studying the stranger.

“Maybe the Alzheimer’s got to Methuselah a little more than we thought?” Onesimus volunteered.

“No, he’s sitting down there with Noah,” Enoch replied. “He likes learning about the flood. And learning about it. And re-learning about it.”

“At least old Noah has an audience and it’s not me!” Shamgar chuckled as he polished his oxgoad.

“Please, Shamgar, not at the dinner table,” Esther chided.

“I know! David just couldn’t break that ash and sackcloth habit of his!” Abednego exclaimed. “It’s got to be David!”

Jeremiah pointed over to the angel choir, “David’s over there in the mosh pit.”

“John the Baptist?” Joseph the Dreamer ventured.

“I passed him on my way here,” Paul said. “He was catching locusts in the field.”

Moses rubbed his chin, “He smiles too much to be Elisha.”

“Then who could it be?” Abigail asked. Mary didn’t offer a guess but pondered all these things in her heart.

After much contemplation, Solomon rose from his spot at the table and raised his hand for silence. Immediately the whispers hushed and even David stopped his dancing long enough to hear the verdict.

“It has come to my attention that there is a stranger among us tonight,” Solomon spoke in a quiet, but authoritative, voice. “Now, we know that no one who defies the LORD can enter Heaven.”

There were murmurs and mutterings of agreement.

“We also know that only the dead are permitted an audience with the LORD and then saints are given white robes upon arrival.”

Again, there was agreement.

“There is only one person I can think of who would be exempt from this rule,” Solomon paused dramatically as one of the angels rolled out a drum roll, “and that is the immortal St. Nicholas!” He turned to the stranger with a smug smile. “Congratulations on your petition being accepted. I hope you enjoy your first Christmas dinner.”

“Thank you! I’m sure it’ll be heavenly!” St. Nick whooped.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Veggies, Innards, and Love

Finish That Thought #23 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: This, to me, represents love.  
Special Challenge: Include a phobia of an object. Concepts, emotions don't count

“This, to me, represents love,” Lawrence said with a hurt tone. He set down his rifle in defeat and implored me with teary blue eyes that usually got what they wanted. But not this time! My foot was down and I had no intention of budging it.

I swear, I don’t know what had gotten into the man. Two years of perfectly ordinary marriage, and then he became a health nut. First he had wanted me to grow a garden “for the benefit of our health.” I readily complied. Even I was tired of the wilted greens available in the local grocery. Then came making bread and pasta from scratch because “we have no idea what effect those preservatives have on our bodies.” That one had taken a little more persuading, but a couple research papers eventually did the trick. Just last month he started hunting for our meat, and today, he was asking the inconceivable.

“Well it doesn’t represent love to me!” I exclaimed, careful to keep my eyes averted from the hulking carcass draped across the front porch. “I will NOT help you dress that…that… thing!”

His lower lip protruded in a heart-melting pout, "But-"

“No buts!” I cut in quickly, steeling myself against his experienced offense. I couldn’t even stuff a turkey without passing out, let alone deal with all that gristly tissue and fur. It was terrifying! I felt my face blanch and little black dots crowded my vision.

“Just the thought of…” I reached out a hand to steady myself against the kitchen counter as the black dots grew bigger and the ocean crashed against my ear drums. I waited until the feeling passed and tried again.

“Just the thought of…” Nope, I was going to faint. Heat rushed over my body as I broke into a cold sweat and my stomach tied itself up in knots.
The last thing I remember was Lawrence’s look of alarm as he reached out to try to catch me, gun clattering to the floor roughly the same time I did.

One good thing did come out of that concussion, though. My meat now comes to me pre-cleaned, pre-cut, and pre-packaged in brown paper.