Green Slimy Stuff (Part Two)

What starts off as a good morning changes in the blink of an eye.
     I'm sitting in the kitchen at my favorite spot, enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee. I'm waiting for my wife to serve me breakfast. She doesn't serve me because she has to, she serves me because she loves me.
     Don't judge me because I'm beautiful.
     My Dad walks in just as my wife puts a plate of food in front of me. He has that kind of timing.
     "Good morning, Dad," my wife tells him happily.
     I look at my breakfast. Two eggs, over easy. Just the way I like them.
     "Good morning, Dad," I tell him, also happily. Food, I hate to admit, makes me happy.
     "Good morning," he tells the two of us, but I really know he's talking to my wife. "Well, I'm feeling better."
     Feeling better? I didn't even know he wasn't feeling well.
     "I was blowing my nose," he continues, settling in right beside me, "and some green stuff came out."
     I'm trying to tune him out, so I can eat my breakfast.
     "At first, my mucus was a light green, and slimy..."
     I cut up my eggs.
     "...but now, when I blow my nose..."
     Grab a slice of bread.
     "...the mucus is a darker green..."
     Look at my eggs.
     "...and even more slimy."
     Even more slimy? How is that even possible?
     "I'm blowing my nose constantly...
     I drop the bread on my plate. I've just lost my appetite.
     "...I don't know what it is..."
     My wife doesn't get as grossed out about stuff like green slimy mucus, the way I do. Maybe it has something to do with raising babies.
     "...but it sure is disgusting."
     I take a sip of coffee.
     "I'm feeling better," my dad concludes, and then takes out his handkerchief and gives his schnoz a good, hard honk.
     He takes a peek.
     My breakfast concludes, as well.
     Handkerchiefs. Yeech! I can't think of anything more disgusting.
     He folds up his handkerchief, and stuffs it back into his left-front pant pocket.
     He blew his nose so hard I'm almost surprised he didn't find his brains in that filthy piece of cloth of his.
     Why doesn't he just use Kleenex instead?
     Kleenex, I think to myself. Ah, the brilliance of American ingenuity.
     Anyway...
     My breakfast... the eggs... they don't look so good to me now.
     Maybe I'll just toast myself a slice of hard, week-old bread instead.
     Or a cracker.
     Yeah, that sounds about right.
  

  

Raising My Father 

RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com

JimDuchene.blogspot.com

@JimDuchene