Christmas, Day Eleven

…or On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me: A Scolding.

Over at the Trailer Park:

Joodles: All ready to hit the stage tomorrow? You’re not wearin’ that are ya?

Lannie: Why? Nobody’s gonna see it behind my gee-tar.

Joodles: Lannie, it’s got a conglomeration of stains that could be anything from drool to chili-con-carne.

Joodles: Hold the fort, I’m goin’ shopping.

Meanwhile down at Seaside Villa:

Joodles: You all set for your gig tomorrow, dear?

Lancelot: Sure am. Just going to spit shine these boots and I’ll be all set.

Joodles: But you’re not wearing that outfit, correct? Do a pirouette for me please and thanks.

Joodles: There’s a hole in the elbow of your shirt, the collar is hanging by a thread and there’s a stain on the back of your pants that looks like something it probably isn’t.
Lancelot: But it’s my lucky shirt. I wear it for all my gigs.

Lancelot: Besides, no disrespect dearest,  but your attire is less than impeccable. There’s a soot stain on your bosom.

Judith: Oh my heavens. How long have I been going around like this? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m going shopping!

© Judy Parsons 2019


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