Mothers-In-Law

That breakfast smells like heaven, Harriet. You always could make bacon perfectly. Not everyone can, you know.

How would you know, Martin? We were married when we turned eighteen. All you have was my bacon and the occasional breakfast out.

True, but I know Mother couldn’t make bacon, worth a damn. It was always so over done. Hardly worth trying to eat. I don’t like char with my morning coffee.

Your mother never could cook worth a damn, Martin. Remember her turkey a few years back , on Christmas? The one she said didn’t come with the giblets? What a smell! Burning paper and turkey innards….a really appetizing aroma. God.

I will never forget the look on her face when Dad asked for more. He has the constitution of an ox to this day.

Your dad is a wonderful man, Martin. He misses you. Your mother on the other hand, is probably burning in hell for her torment of me our first ten years. Unless of course you’ve seen her around in your cosmic travels.

I told you Harriet, I don’t have any memory or knowledge of anything but hanging around here.

So you say. You probably have afternoon tea daily with Rose. Say hello for me, would you.

God you’re thick, Harriet.

Yes, I suppose so. I could see why you wouldn’t have run into her. She’s probably busy boring Satan to his cloven hoofs. That woman could ramble. Thank god you didn’t pick up that habit from her. I’d have killed you sooner.

Did you kill me, Dear?

Don’t be an ass, Darling. Who’d have helped me move the body? Now your mother, might have been a different story.

Don’t even touch that one, Harriet. She’s likely listening in.

Yes, you’re right. She was a nosy one. Nothing was private.

She had some nice qualities, too. You have to admit.

I’ll admit nothing. That woman drove me crazy. Nothing I did was right.

Yes I suppose she really leaned on you. I should have done more to keep her distant.

Uh….yeah. That might have helped. But it’s all water under the bridge now anyway.

Harriet, I’m sorry for that. For not straightening Mother out early in our marriage.

It’s ok Darling. You’ve made up for it by dying young.

You remind me of my mother, Harriet.

I’m calling the exorcist this afternoon.

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