ZZzzzzzz… (a cloudless day… a sandy beach… Brad Pitt wearing faded jeans and a smile… suntan oil in his hand… he reaches out and touches my shoulder…)
I blearily squint and see my 14 y.o. daughter standing over me. She flings a sheaf of papers at me and puts a large book in my lap (oof). “IneedyoutosigntheseforschoolNOWhurryI’mLATE” My purse is flung in the general direction of my hip. “IneedmoneyforlunchcanyouPLEASEwriteacheck?!” She rushes out of the room in a flurry of hair spray and Abercrombie. I eye the papers and hope for the best. Squiggle. Squiggle. Squiggle. One more left. Squ…
All of the signatures slant downhill drunkenly. I have crossed the K instead of the T. Guess I should have opened my other eye. Snatching the papers from me, she rushes out. "MomFORGETtheCHECKI’lljusthavetoSTARVEtoday.There’safootballgametoday.Ineedaride.I’llcallyoulater.
BANG. The front door closes.
It’s 6:48 a.m. All of the lights are turned on. A haze of perfume drifts from the general direction of her bathroom. I get up.
Anyone know any good jokes?