Today in my hallowed place of employment I encountered some characters (like I do every day... every single day). Now they were the kind that make you go "only in the south". In a good way, of course ( I am southern born and bred). Big slow grandmaw (maybe great aunt) with big giant vinyl black bag and ten year old grandson (great-nephew?).
Let's see, so... they (yes, both of them) are doing a little genealogy. Grandmaw doesn't move well; grandson does her bidding. We get into the United Daughters of the Confederacy, a little bit of the Daughters of the American Revolution. The grandboy/nephew has spectacles and high-waisted shorts. Grandmaw constantly complains about everything.
And then there is the weather interference. Thunderstorm. Grandboy has to get the umbrella; grandboy gets soaking wet; grandboy has to go to the hotel to get "proper" dry clothes. Finally grandboy ushers grandmaw out under a great black funeral umbrella.
In my hands this goes nowhere, but, seriously, Truman could have totally done something with it.
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