A Moral? Are You Kidding?

"Morning Tom" I said.

"Morning er, morning ..." he responded.

"George" I said, always willing to lend a hand.

"That's right! Morning! How's the family?"

"Oh, you know ... all still ticking over. Kid's are back in college now so it's quiet around the house. How's your wife?"

"Grumpy as sin this morning. I said to her, I said 'What 's the matter with you Margaret?' and she as near as damn it chased me out of the house", he said with a pained expression on his face.

"Isn't your wife called Glenda?"

"That's why she was grumpy! I'd been calling her Margaret all morning. She reckons I've got wossname ... sounds like a set of false teeth ... what's it called?"

"Denshures?"

"Dementia! That's it. Dementia. Want's me to see a doctor".

This sounded serious so I said that maybe he should ... "You know, Tom. Just for peace of mind".

"Or the loss of it", he spat back.  "Look! I've been married for fifty years and I can remember nearly every danmed minute of it."

"Oh!" I said. "That bad!"

"No, no, no! It's been great ... so she tells me".

"Do you remember yesterday?"

"... all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks ..."

"Tom?"

"Sorry. I get side tracked sometimes.  Did you know that for nearly all of that fifty years, every night when we went to bed she would lie curled up on her left side and I would snuggle up behind her and wrap my arms around her ... ".

"Aw! That's nice".

"... and every night she'd say 'Wouldn't do that if I was you! I might fart and blow your balls off!"

"Oh! You know what? That's the kind of story that should have a moral in it somewhere".

"A moral? Are you kidding me? I know the guy writing this!"

"That's a bit harsh, isn't  it? I'm a classy writer".

"Hah! That coming from someone who spells 'dentures' D-E-N-S-H-U-R-E-S"

"You sod! That's the last time I write about you!"

"Bet you it isn't!"



(I've had a small break from blogging in order to concentrate preventing my garage wall falling down ... but I'm back!)