[LOBO]

“Ouch!”
Scowling, I turn to LadyTerri.
“What the heck was that?”
Smiling coyly, she dangles a tiny stiff fiber in my face.
A gray hair.
“LIAR!” I scream, seizing at the damning evidence.
But she’s the picture of health and prepared for my reaction; scampering deftly out of reach, she’s fully exited the room before I can even rise to my feet.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” she singsongs from the kitchen.
Exhausted from rising suddenly, I slump back into my computer chair and try to catch my breath.

But I know the truth.
And now she knows it too.
An impulsive murder-suicide plan is quickly ruled out: with both of us dead, who will raise the kids? And for that matter, what if the kids spot another gray on my corpse? Then I won’t be around to kill them too; my secret will get out, and I’ll be the laughing stock of the blogosphere anyways.

The obvious alternative was readily available online. This little beauty [pictured left] retails at $18.99, and provides the perfect solution to hide my hideous deformity ... but it looks a bit like steel wool, and I'm staunchly against the abuse of robot sheep.
Why, O cruel God, hast Thou afflicted me thusly? Do I not go to church in disguises so Father Fritz won't kick me out anymore?

O Vengeful One, is smiting New Jersey with a few flaming toads too much to ask from your most faithful of followers?
2 comments:
Are those crow feet around your eyes?
"hoary flaming toads" Sounds like an STD. (Not that I would know anything about STDs)
Why would you want to look like Jermaine Jackson?
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