An Old Lady’s Leg

30 Apr

Hi, it’s me, Mavis. Night before last, I was snoozing away like a newborn baby. The most amazing dreams were tickling my brain, and I am usually a heavy sleeper, but a strange noise jostled me from placid slumber. I fumbled around in my dark abode for my lamp so that I could find my wooden leg. I was merely trying to get some beauty rest for the next big show, and some noise had to wake my ass up! I am a Pisces, so sleep is essential to me, and I especially do not like to be woken up. Anyway, I could not, for the life of me, find my peg leg. I usually put it in the exact same spot: hanging above the red chair in the corner on the old rusty nail. To my surprise it wasn’t there! “I must have left it in the bathroom after my bath”, I thought. So, I hopped on one foot over to The Lou. It wasn’t there either! To my dismay, my leg was no where to be found in my entire wagon. This had never happened. (Well, except for that time my sister cruelly hid it from me), but that’s another story. I called Al, the menagerie security guard, and told him to come quick. When he got there, he shook his head and said, “It must’ve been lifted from yer trailer Mave, I’m sorry.” And that was that. I wanted to burst into tears. Not because my leg was stolen, but because some ahole had the cahonies and the mean spiritness to want to come into my home and take my leg. “Why would anyone want to take an old ladies leg?”, I thought. —To be continued.

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