Keith R Parris - United States Air Force Pilot Wings

Monday's Mail - Excerpt

"Old man, you can hardly see to find me!" Margie exclaimed. "How on earth can you continue to navigate through this old house?"

"My feet don't need my eyes to get around," he snapped. "I know every inch of this place and all that's in it, excepting for the havoc you and old lady Perkins wreak every time you and she get it in your heads to clean. The print on the paper is getting to be a chore to decipher, though. My magnifying glass has gotten as cloudy as these old eyes of mine."

Margie and her father embraced and Margie planted two red lips squarely on his freshly shaven cheek. The scent of spice aftershave and a touch of the fragrance of gardenia hovered faintly about his person and, though almost imperceptible, became recognizable to Margie.

"I guess that's not the first kiss you've had this morning," she whispered.

"I'm not saying that it is and I'm not saying that it isn't," he mumbled. "Where's that no good brother of yours? I haven't seen hide-nor-tail of him since last Wednesday."

"You have too!" Margie retorted, "And it's hide-nor-hair. Surely, you haven't forgotten that he and Janie came by Friday evening."

"No, of course not," her father shot back. "It just slipped my mind for a spell. How could I forget that floozy wearing that cotton T-shirt with her tits hanging out for the world to ogle? That's what, four girlfriends this month?"

"You know she's not a floozy," Margie countered. "She's Johnny's fiancée and they're going to be married by Pastor Carlyle this coming Labor Day weekend and honeymoon in Daytona."

   



 
 

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