Body Talk

  Indiana Medical History Museum

 

I wrote this for Halloween 3 years ago- it’s one of my favorites.

Enjoy

“You couldn’t have wished for more in body” Sydney Poor was telling the other ghost about his corpse as they sat out in the corridor waiting for their autopsies to be finished.

The other ghost was a woman named Tamara and she told Sydney, “ Well I could have. I would have asked to be taller and blond and impervious to speeding cars. So do you know what…” she  shook her head “ sorry, what’s your name again?”

“ Sydney.”

“ Sydney. Sydney I could have asked for more. In fact, this time I’m going in with a laundry list of things I want this time around.”

“ I’m not sure you can not do that.”

“I don’t care what you’re supposed to do. Do you know why? Because not only did I get hit by a car, it rammed me into another car and it nearly cut me in half. I didn’t die right away. Also the woman who hit me drove off and I’m willing to bet you dollars to donuts that someone driving an expensive car like hers will ever find herself in a court room explaining her actions of October 3oth 2009. So as you can imagine I’m feeling a bit wronged here.”

“ She might.”

“ She might what Sydney?”

 “ Get caught.”

Tamara rolled her eyes up and slouched down in her seat.

“ I wonder how long this really takes.” She mumbled.

“ Well. Until they’re finished I suppose.” Sydney said.

“ So what happened to you?” Tamara asked Sydney.

“ Well. I’m a little embarrassed to say…”

Tamara straightened up in her chair and leaned over to Sydney and said “ Go on, your  secret is safe with me. Dead men tell no tales you know.”

“ But you’re a woman.”

“ Oh come on. Tell me.”

“ My neighbors -this man and woman. Well. They thought….that I was…well …”

“ A what?” Tamara said suspiciously as she leaned away from Sydney.

“ They thought I was a Vampire.”

Tamara’s mouth fell opened.

“ They snuck into my house, dragged me down into my basement and drove a stake through my heart. Then they stuffed my mouth full of garlic and cut my head off.”

“ Oh wow Sydney. Oh wow.”

Sydney’s face was turning bright red.

“ Oh wow. That was a freaking weird death.”

“ Yes” Sydney agreed “ yes it was.”

“Still.  What a way to go.”

“ I’ll say. But Tamara a vampire? How could anyone mistake me for a vampire?”

Tamara shrugged. “ I don’t know Sydney. People are funny things if you ask me.”

Tamara hopped out of her chair and went to the doors and waited. When they whispered open she told Sydney. “ Sydney. Come take a look. They’re right in the middle of  working on you. You have to see this- a woman is pulling the garlic out of your mouth with her fingers. I must say, that doesn’t seem very hygienic to me.”

“ That’s my dead body you’re cracking wise over you know.”

Tamara snorted and then she focused on what was going on in the autopsy room.

“ Sydney get over here, I’m stuck to the inside of the body bag.” Tamara laughed.

“ You’ve got a very odd sense of humor Tamara.”

He got up and when he got to the door Tamara grabbed his arm and dragged him into the autopsy room.

“ I really hate these places Tamara.”

“ Don’t we all.” Tamara said as she dragged Sydney up to the table her body was laying on.

“My word you are mess.” Sydney said.

“ Yeah.” Tamara said with a tinge of pride in her voice.

“ I mean it. A mess. You look like you melted. Wait. What’s that on your head… are those scars?”

“ Bullet wounds.”

“ You’ve been shot?

“ Yep. Good thing for me the people who did that were lousy shots otherwise you’d be sitting here all by your lonesome.”

“ And what about those marks on your hands?”

“ Knife wounds.”

And before he could ask she said, “ I caught on fire  a couple of times.”

“ You’ve led a very interesting life Tamara.”

She didn’t answer.

“ So. How long until …”

Tamara didn’t answer. She was trying not to laugh and failed.

“They thought you were a vampire.” Tamara grabbed her stomach as she doubled over laughing. “ What city were you living in? Stupidville? “

“ And that woman who hit you and drove off what town did she come from? “ Sydney asked

“ Very funny Sydney. The woman who hit me  was a cold hearted wretch.  I got in her way and smoosh here I am. I was no more then a dog to her. “

“ Well. At least you weren’t mistaken for a vampire in your final moments…speaking of- how much longer do you suppose.”

“ It’s a full moon tonight, this is going to go pretty fast. So tell me do we keep the old models  or snag ourselves some new ones?” she asked pointing to the room where the bodies were wrapped in plastic and neatly stacked on shelves.

“ Well. I can tell you this much. I never want to be mistaken for a vampire again.”

“ Oh come on Syd, I’m sure there are a lot of vampires who have been mistaken for Werewolves before and I’m willing to bet they aren’t as bent out of shape about it as you are.”

Sydney looked over to the autopsy tables and then through the doorway.

“ Once we take possession, they’ll be fine- on the other hand- you know we could get some new digs. What do you think?” Tamara asked.

 “ As far as bodies go, like I said before, was a good one. It used to belong to a writer. His name was Bancho Church”

“ Hey. I read his stuff. He was cool. I didn’t know he, you know moved on.”

“ Yes, well he did.” Sydney looked down and cleared his throat. “ Sort of.”

Tamara watched her body being washed and then it was bagged and someone took it to the backroom.

“ Cheer up Sydney, it’s Halloween, there’s a full moon and the night is young.”

Sydney’s body went through next and Tamara followed it “ Come one Syd, if we shake a leg I’ll bet we could get a little Trick or Treating in.”

“ You don’t…” he said.

“ Yeah. I shift and knock on doors. I swear last year I scored about five pounds of candy and got my picture taken about a thousand times. Imagine that, people  have a picture of real …

“ Mental  case.” Sydney interrupted her “ Okay after what we’ve been through we could use some fun. It’s a date let’s go.”

Tamara  said “ Yeah. It’s a date. Happy Halloween Syd.  And just so you know, I’ve ruined lives  of those who stood between me and Choco-Bursts.”

Sydney waited for Tamara to laugh and when she did not, he did it for her.

And she let him.

 

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It’s For The Best Emalee Cupid

I’ve been thinking about words and ideas and how important they are- so I wrote a story about it.

Enjoy

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Towns and Cities can disappear and die just like people. 

Some small towns disappear because the main highway is moved and that brings on death just as surely as if you sever an artery in you arm or leg or neck.

And some small towns disappear from the world because they want to.

Just like people.

First Down Turn disappeared from road signs and then it disappeared from road maps.

At some point most of the phone lines that fed into Down Turn fell against trees and into ditches with the storms that always hit the Olympics during the Winter and Spring. When the last set of lines came down in 1979 no one from the outside world noticed because by then Down Turn had all but disappeared from the rest of the world.

You’d think that the people living in Down Turn must have planned their escape from the world, that it must have taken them years to figure out how to erase the tracks they left as they moved in and out of Down Turn when they went to work or for drives or on vacations.

Nothing that grand happened in Down Turn.

The town just faded away bit by bit- just like a photograph encased in a frame with a dusty sheet of glass hanging on a wall that takes the sun for hours at a time.

If you lived in Down Turn you wouldn’t have noticed that you were cut off from the rest of the Universe or the main highway which was less then three miles away, after awhile you couldn’t hear the trucks or cars going by when the traffic was heavy anymore.

Nobody noticed.

Emalee Cupid was just like her neighbors and friends and co-workers. She was just like the people who came into the town’s library looking for ‘stories’.

She didn’t question why in over 20 years no children had been born or why no one ever changed their hairstyle or clothing style or had even bought a new car.

Emalee Cupid lived along and worked alone and now that the rest of life seemed to mirror the life she had resigned herself too all she felt was…

calm.

One day, it was probably sometime during the start of the week Emalee was fixing the spine on a Stephen King book and she wondered why no one seemed to be writing new books anymore.

The thought was a whisper but it was loud enough to make her wince and that’s when she turned the book in her hands over and saw that the title which should have read

” Salem’s Lot ” now read ” Alems Ot”

” That’s not right. ” she whispered to herself and she slid her thumb over the title thinking there MUST have been something covering the letters.

But there was nothing there- unless you counted the blank spot where the ” S ” and the ” L ” should have been.

Emalee looked around the library hoping that no one else was there to see her mistake.

How on Earth could she have not noticed that the cover of a book that she- the town librarian- had received to stock herself when it first came out had a huge problem like a type error on it’s cover?

She dreaded what she knew she had to do next.

She opened the book and as she flipped from page to page she saw that here and there the page numbers were missing, that words were misspelled and that in some places even the pen and ink pictures that were under the Chapter numbers were only partially visible.

Emalee went to the door and locked it and in a panic she went from book to book, magazine to magazine and found the same exact problem.

So just after lunch Emalee closed the Library and decided she had better talk to somebody- anybody about this awful thing she had let happen in her own library.

For years she must have been buying defective books with the towns money.

There was no hiding this- she had better talk to the person who hired her and that was the Mayor.

Down Turn’s Mayor was Mr Ferndale- the Mayor also owned the little General Store with the post office in the back and he also owned the garage and gas station just across the street.

His Offices were above the Gas Station and that’s where he was the day Emalee Cupid came in with her four defective books and two atlases with entire countries missing from the colored plates inside.

Mayor Ferndale was on the phone and he smiled as he motioned to Emalee to wait.

It didn’t seem right to Emalee to watch him so she went to the window and that’s when she saw the stop sign on the corner.

It was red- like it should be- only the words STOP were…

” What can I do for you Miss Cupid? ” the Mayor asked.

Emalee pointed out the window and found the words she need were …gone.

” Yes. They’ve been missing for a few days now, but really, I think we all know what to do at a four way corner, don’t you? Besides, it’s not like there’s a lot of traffic out there nowadays.”

Emalee walked to his desk and put the books down. ” The words. ” she whispered ” The words are missing. “

” Yes, it’s been happening all over the place. Mrs Carlyle at the Pharmacy is having quite a time adjusting but she’ll make do.”

” This isn’t right. ” she told Mayor Ferndale, you can’t just make do when words start to disappear.”

” Some of us don’t have a problem with it Miss Cupid. Some of us don’t like the clutter that’s made it’s way into our town and into our lives. And words- they’re nasty beasts. Those little monsters suck the very air out of your lungs before you have a chance to scream ” no ” and the racket they make as they tunnel their way into your brain.

It’s deafening. Deafening and messy.

 Really Miss Cupid- think about it, don’t things seem much more quiet  and orderly now?”

” No it isn’t.” Emalee went to his desk and snatched the books up and held them to her chest.Don’t you get it Mr. Ferndale? Those words aren’t clutter, they’re ideas, they’re dreams, they’re voices and if you take them away.”

” What. ” Mayor Fernadale asked

Emalee turned her full attention to the Mayor, she looked him straight in the eyes and when she did she saw the faintest outline of the bookshelf he was sitting in front of looking back at her.

” You take us away too.” she said to the faint outline of Mayor Ferndale.

” It’s for the best Emalee Cupid. You’ll see, it’s all for the best.”

Want To See Something Really Scary?

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For some

Halloween Reading

visit

Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge

Open from Dusk to Dawn

 

The Indiana Toilet Monster

In the spirit of the upcoming holiday (I don’t mean my birthday…I mean Halloween) I thought I’d post some nifty Halloween Related Urban Legends from now until the BIG DAY.

I’ve decided to start with

The Toilet Monster

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The toilet monster is a girl named Carmen who was pushed down into a sewer by her classmates and died. Carmen Whitehead lived in Indiana, so the story goes- and for some reason it’s important to mention that so I did.

Okay…back to the story.

So shortly after Carmen meets her death in the Sewer this post shows up at MySpace:

If you don’t repost this saying:

They Pushed Her Down The Sewer

Carmen will get you…

To fill you in, Carmen from Indiana will come up from you Shower or Toilet and drag you down to where she is in the sewers and then she’ll kill you.

I think it would be way more efficient to kill you first and then flush you down the toilet- but hey I didn’t write this.

I did however enjoy it because I can’t help but to wonder how many of you will think about Carmen The Indiana Toilet Monster the next time you visit the smallest room in the house.

I think that’s pretty darn funny.

Urban Legends…. they are more then amusing stories they are the gift that keeps on giving.

Does Your Wife’s Head Spin Around?

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When a Monk calls your house after reading your blog and says to your husband, ” hey, does your wife’s head spin around? “

It would behoove you to make your weekly Prayer to God a good one…so here it goes:

Hi There God,

I was a pretty good person this week- you know I avoided those Express Way to Hell Sins…. Christ, I mean God….well, it was hard.

This woman who likes to run the pictures and workplace info of human rights activists that tick her off on the front page of her website was found guilty of shoplifting 3.18 worth of chocolate milk from a store.

 I didn’t laugh.

I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

See, I did the compassion thing- which I know you’re big on- I hope you noticed.

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I don’t know what I did to deserve this- but I’m going to be visiting this place at the end of the month:

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I’ll do something Churchy when I get back. If you could swing it so that I see or meet some hardcore UFO people with cool stories to tell I’d be ever so grateful.

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Now I have a question here God- I know you’re not big on explaining why you do what you do, but maybe you can help me figure out why people pull stunts like:

A few weeks ago a man missed the turn on my road and ran into my neighbors yard. He had two kids in his car and when some of my neighbors found out he was Mexican and so were the kids two of my neighbors- one who is an emergency room nurse and the other who prides herself on being a first aid expert and has one of those ice chest sized first aid kits in her truck wouldn’t go near the kids to make sure they were okay.

They were more concerned with trying to find out if the man was ” legal.”

I wonder, if I went to a real Church and made some of my friends and family go AND if I prayed more often could you make Intentional Gross Stupidity a Sin? Don’t say no too fast here- just think about it.

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I have to confess something here God, I was at this resturaunt and this guy was rude- he was making fun of ” all the ugly girls here tonight”- so as he bit into his very expensive Pork Poor Boy Sandwich I turned to my husband and friends and said, ” do you know when a body burns in a fire it smells just like roast pork?”

They’re guys God, Guys who were into their third beer, they wanted to hear all about it.

Sandwich Jerk didn’t even ask for a bag for his untouched food when he left.

What else can I say besides

“snicker”

Oh wait

how’s about I just say

Amen

instead?

Okay….Amen it is and I’ll see you next Sunday.

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Midnight Conversation at Riversleigh Manor

I wrote this a couple of years ago- and it’s one of my favorites because of the two nameless ‘characters’.

I don’t where they came from but I like them-they’re bone chilling.

With that….

Enjoy! 

From my Soul Food Cafe Prompt Archives 

amm

 

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There’s something buried in the Gardener’s Shed and why would someone bury something that wasn’t dead yet?

The thing in the shed isn’t buried very deep, so if you were to crawl over the dead fall in front of the door and were able to push your way through he matted cobwebs and you didn’t mind the smell of rotting leaves and small unburied creatures you’d find  there under the window a slightly raised mound of earth.

Were you to look at the raised mound long enough and the light somehow managed to find it’s way through the little panes of glass covered with dust and dirt you’d think someone was lying there on their side with one arm cradling their cheek and the other laying comfortably on their side.

Wouldn’t you?

If you brought a flashlight and the beam was bright you might think you could see something wrong with the entire left side of the sleeping figure’s face. You might think that maybe that the face was gone, smashed in by something like that shovel in the corner.

Isn’t that right?

They might wonder what you were doing back there in a rotting shed behind the Manor House in the dead of Night, they might see you take the shovel and try to smooth and pound that little raised mound of Earth flat.

That’s what they’d see wouldn’t they?

So I must ask you again, why would you bury something that is not dead yet?

Go ahead you can tell me.

Just keep your hands were I can see them.

 

Say It Like You Mean It

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth. 

Benjamin Disraeli

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I was power washing homeless person vomit from off my loading dock today when from out of nowhere I remember this news story about a person who just won the lottery and they said,

” It’s not going to change me, I’m not giving up my job. ”

Man, why apologize for winning? And what is it with this humble thing? You didn’t win the lottery because you’re a good person. You just happened to get the right number or the right ticket and it doesn’t care who you were before you pulled it.Heaven knows I don’t either. Besides if I had won that drawing I’d look like the least deserving person on the face of the planet to win anything.

I wouldn’t be able to help myself.

So as I’m washing the vomit away I figure I might as well hose the pigeon yack from the railing while I’m at it.

And then as the water splashed up from the ground  into my face I thought to myself  “Oh sure, if I won the lottery I’d want to keep the vomit and my ugly face too. I live for getting the short end of the ‘stick o-life’ jabbed in my eye every darned day. Ooooo, I wouldn’t want to part with any of that!

But I’m honest; I’d look into the camera and say after the reporter asks the question (I would of course be wearing my celebratory Deely Boppers with the little shrunken heads on the tops) and I’d say with sincerity:

“I won’t be in to work because I intend to be on the first plane to California in the morning just in time for that guy who has a TV show about Plastic Surgery to open his office. Count on it, a month from now I fully intend be a brand new Anita who doesn’t have to hose vomit and bird poop from off of a loading dock anymore.

As to my future plans I’m going to be visiting places like Roswell, The Pez Museum and I’m going to Nevada to hang out near Area 51 and get sunburn. At some point in there I’m going to buy about a dozen of those bat house kits and nail them up all over my yard- just to drive my neighbor nuts. If he were smart he’d sell me his house before I get the Honey Bee Farm delivered.

Why?

He hates my cat…anyway-

My life won’t be about enrichment, it’s going to be all about living- which in case you haven’t noticed

YOU CAN’T DO IF YOU’RE WORKING IN A PLACE WHERE YOU NEVER SEE THE DAMNED SUN AND YOU HAVE TO HOSE VOMIT FROM THE STEPS OR YOU COULD SLIP IN THE SLIME AND BREAK YOUR NECK!”

Then I’d laugh, kiss the camera and do the Hula.

And I wouldn’t stop carrying on until they put me down with a tranqualizer dart.

Count on it.

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The Flower Room

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She smells  like the Flower Room at the Funeral Home I used to work at.

The Flower Room is this little room you walk through to get to the Embalming Room.

Because you have to stand there and punch in a code and then wait for the lock to pop you have no choice but to breath in the heavy, eye watering smell of flowers.

There is no real air in that room, I think in their last efforts to thrive the flowers and potted plants drink it all in and what’s left is the perfume. That God-awful fog of flower stench.

The smell is permanent; that’s where the flowers have gone for the passed 100 years this building has been in existence, that’s where the flowers will continue to go in the future, that’s where they will sit until they’re either taken into the chapel or out to the graveside.

I hate that smell- I hate it worse then decomp, I hate it worse then purge. I hate cut flowers anyway.

Back to the story, she smelled exactly like the flower room and when she would walk by me I’d hold my breath. Because I would have to hold my breath that also meant I never talked to her and when she would stand there and ask me a question my nose would start to run.

It was no loss, whenever I walked by her in the halls she’d say something that sounded like ” Hole-Ah  Sen-your-eata ” in this awful Spanish Accent, which is dumb because I’m not Spanish but she thought I was.

And I learned what she thinks in this world is all that counts.

If she thinks you’re a Mexican, you’re a Mexican, if she thinks that 2 and 2 equals five you better PROVE to her it doesn’t. If she thinks your place is to serve, then darn it, you better ask if she wants you to kiss her backside after you get done kissing her feet.

So here’s the deal.

She expected me to drop whatever I was doing in the morning to open the door for her.

She told me, when I asked why she felt like I need to hold the door open for her when nobody who walked in before or after her needed that particular service, that it was my job to ” support the Staff as they see fit.”

This came from the mouth of the girl who ran the Copy Machines and checked the mail in for our Administration Staff.

I told my Boss what she said. He reminded me I actually out ranked her. He told me to find a way to deal with it and he’d stick by my plan.

 Then he told me not to hurt her to bad.

This was the routine; she’d stand in front of this unlocked door and tap on the glass over and over and over until I walked over and pushed it open. Then she’d breeze by me stinking like 100 years worth of flowers that had been stored in a windowless airless room and I’d have to pull the door closed after her.

The unlocked door.

The one she could have opened herself.

After about a week of this baloney I made my stand.

She starts one morning…tap, tap, tap and she’s pointing down to the door handle and then to her watch and then she starts tapping on the door again. 

This is a glass door and she almost has her faced pushed right into the glass and she’s smiling- she’s smiling this big toothy smile.

I go up to the door and take my keys out.

I hold them up and point to them. 

Then I put them into the lock…And I lock the door.

Then I gave her the finger and walked off.

I don’t hate the smell of flowers the way I used to.

In fact I’d have to say I find them a little sweet now.

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It’s A Girl Thing

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I ride the same bus route to work every morning.

It’s an Express Bus so it doesn’t have a lot of stops to hit before we get to the freeway. On this quick route all you’ll see are the same cookie cutter houses and the same dogs barking in the same spots in their yards and the same cats looking all offended when the bus goes by.

I haven’t figured that one out yet.

Anyway.

About the only change that happens on this route happens is during the summer when the regular drivers go on vacation and we get a new driver almost every morning.

There’s no problem there, we don’t run late, no one is getting lost along the way.It’s pretty uneventful- like it is the rest of the year. But every once and awhile a driver will go by an exit or get on the freeway at the wrong on-ramp.

 I mean, if you haven’t driven a route for awhile you’d do the same.

 It’s not a big deal.

What is a big deal and a weird thing is the way the Passengers react.

If it’s a woman who is doing the driving the Passengers will start screaming and I mean SCREAMING  ” You’re suppose to turn HERE….DRIVER TURN HERE….DRIVER IF YOU DON’T MOVE OVER NOW YOU’RE GOING TO MISS THE TURN. DRIVER!”It never fails and it sounds so obnoxious- I mean it’s one thing for little kids to screech- but when adults do it?

Annoying.

What’s even worse is the way these same people react when the Driver is a man.

We’ve blown by exits. gone down the wrong streets and does anyone say a word a mile down the road  when they THINK the Driver is going to miss the stop or when they board the bus halfway across town the way they do with the female drivers?

No.

Not a peep,  not a sound.

I figure it must be a Girl Thing,

Is It That Time Of The Month Again?

Yes indeed, it’s Sunday.

Time to have my weekly chat with God.

I know, I know

If  I were really serious about this I’d do it every day

 but if my Mom found out I call God more then her?

She’d bust me open like a crispy Lumpia.

So anyway here we go:

 

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Dear God,

I want to thank you for a pretty good week.

Nobody that I know died- besides I knew you wouldn’t approve so I kept my hands to myself.

Thank you for creating the Universe so that I can now spend Thursdays watching ” Burn Notice “.

I think it’s wonderful that the role of floozy/spy is a man who is almost 50 years old and never shaves and wears Aloha Shirts. I like it that he credits his income and home on the beach to ” those little blue pills’.

You truly inspired someone there God and it was darn fine work.

Thank you for the heat wave that has hit the Pacific Northwest.

I was about to go out and spray something that would kill my lawn just so I wouldn’t have to mow it and woo hoo in three days you killed it dead.

God, the timing on that one, I mean I was touched.

It really felt like you were watching over me there.

I owe you for that one.

 I’d also like to thank you for this:

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I walk around saying ” The Orange Ones Are Poison ” and I love -DO YOU HEAR ME- love the look people get on their faces when I say it…which is often.

By often I mean every chance I get.

And above all else thank you for aiding me on the Crispy Egg Roll Search. I’m getting closer to finding it God and I know that after these many blessings this one shall too come to pass.

Bye-

I mean

Amen

and see you next Sunday.

amm