August 9th, 2005
When I worked at a geriatric hospital I heard about a senile out-patient who tried to cook frozen food on his electric bar fire. How his face must have glowed orange like a setting sun in the darkened flat, as he knelt on arthritic knees to reverentially proffer a single stiffened string bean to the softly groaning unit. How delicately formed that first bead of condensation on the tip of the bean, swelling and shining, and finally falling down onto the glowing coils, expiring in a single spark, the bean yielding nature’s kiss to man’s crude artifice, the droplet merging with the wires, a god in the machine.
Or maybe it was a Chicken Dippa. I dunno.
A friend of mine sold a policy with the best phrase , in both eloquence and clarity possible, the policy being to protect your Identity against theft.
“Is that Miss Grape?”
“Aye, well you’ve just had your Identity stolen, you having an ID policy or what”
A little lady called to cancell a card as her husband was scrambling on the pavement beside her, knelt on (and consequently breaking)the said card, and scratching around for the change that fell out of his pocket. Twenty minute call it were, still picking up his money.