The Current Status of Our Daughter Jill Loomis.

I lightly grazed her left forearm with my right eyebrow and only intended to offer some inane pleasantry along the lines of, "Were you at the Henny Youngman Roast last year?" or maybe "Have I ever told you about my paper allergy?". But instead what I found myself, well, blurting out if I'm being honest, was "Why are you always traipsing around with my Space Needle postcard like it's your coveted collectible?" It wasn't my question to ask. Really had never occurred to me before that evening. If, after this outburst, my breath became short and my fingertips assumed a more oval shape as was reported on Action 5 News, I plead the fifth. Look, I'm playing for time here. There's a teenage runaway in my foyer and a ribald account of my alternative uses of a neck brace has been making the rounds and it's all I can do to maintain even a routine homeostasis. 

This is the time of year when a swath of forgotten cloth will do wonders for starchy knuckles. We don't ever want to succeed in reacting to otherwise fluking empers the way a certain 'Sam Halsey' did. It doesn't suit a person with a trim appearance. If I'm thinking clearly and abiding by a carefully aligned can-do boosterism, then my overweening hyperactive security personel will schedule a meet-and-greet with the Pipefitters Union for the last Thursday of the fourth month of every third decade. This will give us a respectable time period during which to enforce an excuse regime on the one-sided patriarchy that an underwater civilisation calls home. It will also accrue to the magickal benefit of the basketball team I sponsor for the Jaycees. The last time I looked, our faded knock-on wonder list was seen as the last ablution loved by animals in prison. I mean 'real' animals, not the kind you see in the street. It happens that my street is paved with unremarkably sized stones. 

After I forced my way into her carport, I spotted my favorite tie under a toolbox.  Then, believe or not, I had a heart attack. I was rushed to Mercy Hospital where I was pronounced predominantly dead. When my older brother came back from the war in Vietnam I trained in Floral Design at Claremont College. My wife used to be vegan. Our daughter Jill Loomis is engaged to a prominent attorney in town. We no longer play bridge with the neighbors. Why? It seems they've all become Communists. If you approach me very slowly there's a chance we might become friends. Does that sound like a good idea? 

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