Garden Harvest, Gutter Humor
Uncle Andrew
Margaret picked a huge bowl of tomatoes from the garden this afternoon; reds, cherries, golds, and a lovely green-and-red variety called—no kidding—”Mister Stripey”. She was quite justifiably pleased.
Shawn spied the cornucopia on the kitchen counter and, depsite his aversion to raw ‘matoes, was duly impressed.
“Margaret, I just love your tomatoes!” he gushed.
Now how am I supposed to ignore an opening like that? “Hey now, you just back off, there,” I said hotly.
In vain the two of them tried to ignore me. “So are these an heirloom?” he asked, holding up a Mister Stripey.
I just couldn’t help myself. “Yeah, she got ’em from her mother.”
My, I amuse myself.
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