Thursday storybook time.

It's spring!

.

Once upon a time, I had a friend who married a woman he thought was the most beautiful in the world, and in fact she was very pretty, in a Delta Burke/Imelda Marcos sort of way. They had two children and lived in a lovely over-sized house in the best suburb; the windows draped with layer upon layer of ruffled sheered curtains, in the softest shade of pink you have ever seen. They did everything with flair and style, and much better than their neighbors ever could. (The Mrs. had been a hair stylist before they married, which may explain why her hair was nearly as big as the house.)

.

One spring day, I called my friend just to see how he was doing and the answering machine went on. Symphonic music was playing softly in the background, and his wife's melodic voice began her sing-song, operatic message. It was her springtime poem, recited in the style of the good witch Glinda from the Wizard of Oz. It began "It's spring! Ohhhhhhhh! It's spring! Ahhhhhhhh! The girls are scampering to and fro in the ya----"

.

Clunk! I hung up!

.

The End.