Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #517

Humphrey: “Say, what happened to your face there, doll? Has your man been wallopin’ you around? I can take care of him if you want me to. Just say the word.”

Ida: “Well, as much as I would like to belittle my husband for the wretched things he has done, I can’t really pin this on him. His crimes are fairly petty, mainly stupidity and aggressive flatulence. No, I did this to myself.”

Humphrey: “Aw, come on, doll. You don’t have to make excuses for your husband beating on you, like pretending you walked into a door or you got too rambunctious with your personal massager and the plug flew out of the wall and smacked you in the noggin.”

Ida: “I am telling you the truth. This isn’t a bruise, it’s a burn. I was doing a chemistry experiment and things got a bit out of control. I was too close to the action and… well, a small piece of plutonium made a break for freedom but it only got as far as my face.”

Humphrey: “Sorry, gal, but I think you’re just blowing hot air.”

Ida: “I’m not blowing anything, and certainly not you, although I hear that Lauren Bacall might be making you an offer in a few years. Really, I was testing isotope variances when you walked in. Your Neanderthal gait startled me and I quickly shoved my test tube in that lamp over there.”

Humphrey: “What kind of dame would be doing chemistry experiments?”

Ida: “The kind of dame that can sometimes win Nobel Prizes. Women can do anything. Even direct movies.”

Humphrey: “Like that will ever happen in Hollywood in our lifetimes. Now, quit runnin’ your mouth and let me take a look at where the massager dinged ya. It might leave a scar.”

Ida: “I strongly suggest you not get any closer to the impact site.”

Humphrey: “Why, you tender-headed?”

Ida: “No. I’m radioactive.”

Humphrey, sighing: “Making movies just ain’t what it used to be.”

Ida: “Tell me about it. Now, you go back over there and wait for Lauren to eventually put her lips together and blow, and I’m going to call my HMO and see what my deductible is for underestimating radical plutonium.”

 

Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 04/26/17. No changes made. I considered piddling with a few of the lines, but I just spent three hours on my NaNoWriMo project, and the music is no longer in me. Indigestion from the Mexican dinner earlier this evening? Yeah, that’s still there…

 

14 replies »

  1. Ahead of her time was Ida. In the 1940s (well in UTAH where admittedly it’s a different world altogether) women were still relegated to the kitchen and the boudoir, raising children and feeding the livestock (this includes the men they married at ridiculously young ages…education? Why waste it on a FEMALE? She’d only be getting married and having kids). And that black eye (feh. plutonium) came with the territory (in some homes). If a man didn’t regularly beat his wife, she might get uppity and start *GASP* thinking on her own, which only led to trouble in the form of demanding equal rights, wearing trousers and maybe even wanting to become a doctor or scientist. Anarchy. Chaos. Not to be tolerated…

    Liked by 1 person

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