A Visit from ???

by Jody Worsham
All rights reserved for Freedom of Speech

T'was three days before Christmas and all through the house.
Every creature was scurrying, even the mouse.

The stockings were packed in the attic somewhere
In hopes they would be found before Santa got there.

The children were zoned out in front of the TV.
School had been out for two days, you see.

Taco shells were in the oven, the timer was set.
They will burn anyway, on that you can bet.

I with a glass of Chardonnay and Hubby,Dr. Pepper in hand,
had just given up trying to get the Christmas tree to stand.

When out on the drive-way there rose such a clatter,
I slowly got up to see what was the matter.

Away to the security cameras I swayed in a flash,
Hit the zoom button and hoped it didn't crash.

The moon on the crest of the Si Gnome and yard art
gave the appearance of a garage sale, the unsold part.

When what to my blurry eyes should appear
but the UPS truck, on that  I was clear.

With a little old driver, so slow, you see
It reminded me of Uncle Nebecaneezer Lee.

More rapid than Andretti he ripped through the gears
And he shouted and called out strange mutterings to my ears.

" Dag-nap it, consarn idget, you stupider than dirt,
You blithering mullat, I'll put on the hurt!"

To the top of the drive way, to the patio floor,
he managed to park very close to the door.

I ditched the wine glass and was turning around,
when down the sidewalk he came with a bound.

He was dressed all in camo from his pants to his shirt
And his clothes were all muddy and covered with dirt.

His glasses how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses and his nose like a cherry

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard on his chin reminded me of that TV show.

A wink of his eye and the tilt of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but set me to work.
And had me unload all the packages, then turned with a jerk.

He grabbed his blue cup, took a long drink of tea,
And tore down the drive-way, barely missing a tree.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove into the black
"Happy Happy Happy Christmas to all and that's a fact, Jack!"

I Been Framed!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved to purchase antique copies of TV Guide

When my eight-year-old said he volunteered me as the Dynasty lady to do face painting at his school’s annual field day, I was flattered.  I had visions of a mature Linda Evans in a designer gown, dripping in diamonds painting unicorns and fairies on sweet little faces;  so of course, I said yes.   Then he asked me if I knew how to paint a good duck, and the other shoe fell.  I lied and said yes.

I signed up for a two hour session; that way I had a way out if needed.  Face painting would involve sitting down, under a shade.  How hard could that be?  Besides, I already had my own brushes. 

I arrived early as instructed with paint brushes in hand and my Shakespeare printed apron on. My three other face painters and I were taken outdoors to a covered area with tables and chairs.  The lady in charge gave us our instructions.

“We have thirty minutes with each grade for face painting so don’t get too elaborate or take too long with each design.  Second grade will be arriving …just….about...Now.”  And we were off.

My eight-year-old was in the second grade group.  He spotted me right away.

“Here she is guys.  The best Duck Dynasty drawer ever.  Just tell her what you want.”

I went from visions of Linda Evans drawing cute Donald Ducks to Miss Kate drawing dead birds and road kill.