Does It Taste Funny To You?
In this blog: A Funny Taste
Ideas? A Reminder from your last Blog
Notes from Joy
BOOB Girl Talk for your groups
New Offers in The BOOB Girl Series
Geoffrey the Mastiff Leaned lovingly against Robinson Leary’s leg. He looked up at her with big, loving doggy eyes.
“Go Away!” she whispered, looking down at his oversized head. “Go Away, Geoff!”
Geoffrey leaned in harder.
Robbie moved her leg. Geoffrey fell against the hallway wall with a soft thud.
Robbie peeked slowly and carefully around the corner.
She watched as a short, homely figure left one of the apartments on the second floor of Meadow Lakes Retirement Community. The figure turned, locked the door, and hurried down the hall in full waddle.
Robbie waited until he was several yards ahead of her, then slipped out from around the corner and followed him.
Geoffrey limped along beside her, quiet as a cornered racoon. Geoffrey was hoping Robbie would yell, PLAY and he could pounce on the short person ahead of them.
Instead, Robbie was inching along on her tiptoes.
Geoffrey followed her half-way up the hall.
He turned around and headed toward the dining room.
He hurried to get through the dining room door beside Alphonso Greatwood, owner of Meadow Lakes. Alphonso was in his scooter, The Green Machine, and reached down to pat Geoffrey’s head beside him.
“Hey old man,” he said.
Geoffrey looked up and grinned at the huge man beside him. Alphonso, former linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs football team, was scooter-bound and bald. A fair combination for a giant black man who still acted as a commentator for Chief’s games now and then.
Alphonso and Geoffrey headed for table 12 and hot coffee. Alphonso grabbed the big thermos pot of coffee and Geoffrey slid under the table to find the feet of Mary Rose McGill, his favorite. He lay down with a comfortable, contented sigh.
“Hey Alphonso,” Hadley Joy Morris Whitfield said.
“Hey back,” Alphonso answered.
Mary Rose and her husband, Wiley Vondra, looked up at Alphonso and said, “Hey Alphonso,” together.
They live in Nebraska. “Hey.”
Raven Five Horns, an Apache, strolled in through the big doors.
“Hey!” everybody said.
Raven nodded, grabbed the coffee pot, and poured a mug full to match Alphonso’s.
“Where’s Robbie?” Mary Rose asked.
Raven glanced around the group at table 12 as if he would find her there and point her out.
“Not here,” he said.
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” Marge Aaron, retired homicide detective grinned.
Raven grinned back.
It was several minutes before Robbie dashed through the door, out of breath and clutching her leather computer case under her arm.
“You won’t believe this!” she said in a loud whisper.
“What?” Wiley asked loudly. With Wiley, they couldn’t tell if he didn’t hear Robbie or if he was just curious.
Robbie grinned. “I spent most of the morning lurking in the hall outside Neal O’Neal’s apartment.
They looked at her.
“You LURKED?” Marge asked.
“I lurked,” Robbie said, “I am good at lurking.”
“Okay,” Marge said, “You lurk. I detect.”
“I question,” Mary Rose added.
“I investigate,” Hadley said.
They all looked at Alphonso.
“Uh, I run ‘em down?” he said, a question mark at the end of his sentence.
“I choose selective participation and pass.” Wiley grinned.
Mary Rose slapped his arm. “That means you’re lazy!”
“No, I practice selective participation,” Wiley countered.
They were quiet, then they all looked at Raven.
The corners of his lips twitched as if he were about to smile. “I’m Apache. I track.”
They all looked at Robbie.
“I followed Neal into the coffee shop then sat where I could hear him talk to Don and Clyde and Glen.” She was grinning like the cat who swallowed a canary.
“You know, we learned how his wife dragged him home from bars by his ear and how he put her wooden leg on the roof and sawed rungs off the ladder?”
Robbie took a breath.
“Well, she got even. She poured out half a bottle of his prune juice and filled it with motor oil.” Robbie waited for effect. “He drank almost the whole bottle.”
Wiley was grinning from ear to ear.
“And……” Mary Rose urged.
After it was almost gone, he realized it had a weird after taste.” She looked at her audience. “He hurried over to a neighbor with it and asked the neighbor to taste it. The neighbor said, “Oh my God, you’ve been drinking motor oil! They called the doctor. She paused again. She had their attention.
Robinson Leary, stand-up comedian.
“What did the doctor say?” Mary Rose asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“The doctor said to not let Neal get far from the bathroom.”
Robbie burst into laughter.
They joined her.
“His wife wouldn’t let anyone in the house for two weeks!”
“I have a question,” Marge said, “Since you’re so good at lurking, can you lurk up his wife?”
They looked at the former detective. No one had every seen Neal O’Neal’s wife.
Where was she? Was she dead?
Read on good friends and send us some ideas.
Senile Squad Meets The BOOB Girls