Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #342

Tour Guide: “And over here, we have the magnificent foyer of Pickfair Mansion, where Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks would welcome the stars of Hollywood into their fine home during the 1920s.”

Little Sally: “It looks kind of crappy to me. You’d think it would be a bit more fancy.”

Tour Guide, sighing, because there was always an urchin in every group who didn’t understand that their opinion was worthless until they had a steady income: “Well, Sally, it’s actually rather nice. That vase is a priceless artifact from the Wang Chung Dynasty.”

Little Sally: “Huh. I’m not sure what artifact means, but I guess it means ugly and boring. Just like that bench thing.”

Tour Guide, sighing again, because her miniscule salary really wasn’t worth it at times like this when poorly-raised offspring proved to be greatly annoying: “That bench was once owned by one of the kings of France, a king that managed to not get beheaded. Do you know about beheading, little princess? Such a thing often happened when someone said something that other people didn’t like.”

Little Sally: “I think I might beheading up those stairs. What’s up there?”

Tour Guide: “Those are the private chambers of Mary and Douglas. That is not part of the tour.”

Little Sally: “Why not? We bought tickets, and my ticket doesn’t say anything about not getting to go where I want. And I want to go up those stairs.”

Tour Guide, steeling herself, and trying to breathe evenly like her therapist was always telling her to do: “No one is allowed on the upper level, ticket or not.”

Little Sally: “Are they having sex up there? Is that why we can’t go?”

Tour Guide, deciding that her therapist was an idiot and allowing herself to breather rather haphazardly: “I have no knowledge of who might be doing what to whom on the upper level. I am only trained to discuss the lower level. Is there anybody here who can help this snippety child understand that we will not be ascending stairs any time soon? And by anybody, I mean the parents of Little Sally who did not take advantage of birth control at an appropriate time.”

Big Sally: “I’ve been scared of her since she shot out of my womb, and I am not going to risk my life by trying to make her behave. Children have not been the same since that fool invented the Internet.”

 

Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post.

Family Visitation Update for those keeping score: The first wave of relatives has come and gone, and nothing got broken. The next wave crests in two days, with a scheduled arrival time smack dab in the middle of Friday Afternoon traffic, the absolute worst day and time to arrive in Dallas, because nobody listens to me. Please keep lighting votive candles and sending up positive mantras into the spiritual ether…

 

8 replies »

    • Some of them might qualify as such, although I am under a court-order to refrain from including personally-identifying details. And yes, lots of beer. That’s my go-to when the skies darken and the thunder rolls… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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