Monday, June 10, 2013

A very special level of Hell...

A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.

With apologies to Shepherd Book, I've found that place. It's the indoor flea market off route 340 in Harpers Ferry. Actually it could be any flea market, indoors or outdoors, where one has to shop with my visiting mother, either for an hour or for all eternity.

Actually the hour will seem like all eternity.

Yes folks, it's that time of year again. My mother has blessed me with a visit this week, no doubt as a "reward" for something that I did in a past life. Today's sentence enhancement shared time was spent at the flea market, watching her pick up and mull darn near every single item in the place at least once.

Finally after an hour or so, she found a prize: a glass butter dish.

I could have driven to three different Wal-Marts and bought her a new one at each store in the time that it took her to find that one and buy it there. But hey--if it makes her happy, that's my job.

Of course that wasn't even the best part of the day. No, the best part was walking around that special level of hell flea market with the stupid kid yelling non-stop to get the attention of his mom, who was at no time more than ten feet away from him.

Yeah, the little darling is wearing water wings and goggles inside the flea market, miles from the nearest water. He also has no "indoor voice" as evidenced by his need to loudly carry on a running monologue the entire time that they were in there. "Mommy! Look! An old record player! Mommy! Baseball cards! Mommy! Look at this..." Meanwhile, the heavily-tattooed circus freak that he was speaking to continued to browse, oblivious to his shrill shouts that echoed through the market like fingernails on a chalkboard. Not once did she slap him into silence or even suggest that he to tone it down, so he kept right on screeching. What's even worse is that she's obviously pregnant with another incipient screecher. Great. Personally, I'm thinking that the West Virginia Tourism Bureau ought to have these two on a commercial welcoming people to West Virginia and warning them what's in store for them when they get here.
Anyway, we're back at the Lair now. I'm thinking that special circumstances justify my starting to drink earlier than usual. Hope that you all are having a great day. And remember...appreciate your mothers!

8 comments:

  1. I like to introduce little inappropriate words to inconsiderate crotch fruit such as this. Something he'll be sure to shout out loud. Speak where only he can hear you, I like to act like I'm on the phone: "I'm still looking for the dikfer, I haven't seen a dikfer here yet". Repeat the target word, then move away from the pawn and wait for him to shout "mommy mommy, what's a Dikfer ?"

    T

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  2. Hahahahah! Be nice to me or I'll tell her about the (much better) places in Leesburg and Frederick and tell her you're just dying to take her to them!

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  3. Gotta agree with Gromit... :-) And it's a MONDAY everywhere!!!

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  4. Kid probably has to screach or the ovaries won't notice he's alive. I like flea markets,
    myself, but not the garage sale crap.

    Maybe this was payback for all the school plays or recitals she had to go to when you were little :)

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  5. @ PH: I'm thinking that you don't live far enough away to be able to pull that one off safe.

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  6. Think of it this way, you never know what you will find at those places. Sometimes, mixed in with the Garfield mugs you might come across a bayonet or something. At just such an "antique mall" a few years back, we found an original bayonet that fit hubby's 30-06 Enfield.

    Glad your mom had fun. Enjoy your beer.

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  7. It is a shame you did not have a taser

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  8. I stayed for one night at a nice B&B in Harpers Ferry many years ago called "Jackson's Rose". Unfortunately, it was in early March and not much was open then. I was just passing through on my way to North Carolina.

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