a night at the ballet
Evening at the chateau.
Ensconced in front of the television with the Lildebeest.
The Royal Ballet are doing their stuff on the screen.
The mighty Heelers is too weak to change the channel.
For he is recovering from a long illness.
Ah yes.
Too weak to change the channel.
That is assuming he could wrestle the controls from his aged parent in the first place.
"You're torturing me Lil," he murmurs as some rather fetching young ones done up as swans dance daintily across an improbable frozen pond.
The Mammy does not look up from her contemplation of the dancers.
"You know what this needs?" sez I. "This needs Michael Flatley to get in among the chorus line. He'd be clutching at buttocks, making love to swans, paying the one he fancies but who rejected him more than what he's paying all the others. I'm telling you he'd electrify them. There'd be none of this coy bum wiggling. If ould Flatley got among those swans they'd really be dancing."
The Mammy maintained her concentration.
"You're getting better," she said mildly. "And I don't mean your jokes."
Ensconced in front of the television with the Lildebeest.
The Royal Ballet are doing their stuff on the screen.
The mighty Heelers is too weak to change the channel.
For he is recovering from a long illness.
Ah yes.
Too weak to change the channel.
That is assuming he could wrestle the controls from his aged parent in the first place.
"You're torturing me Lil," he murmurs as some rather fetching young ones done up as swans dance daintily across an improbable frozen pond.
The Mammy does not look up from her contemplation of the dancers.
"You know what this needs?" sez I. "This needs Michael Flatley to get in among the chorus line. He'd be clutching at buttocks, making love to swans, paying the one he fancies but who rejected him more than what he's paying all the others. I'm telling you he'd electrify them. There'd be none of this coy bum wiggling. If ould Flatley got among those swans they'd really be dancing."
The Mammy maintained her concentration.
"You're getting better," she said mildly. "And I don't mean your jokes."
posted by heelers | 1:21 AM
2 Comments:
Your mother obviously realizes and relishes the power of controlling the remote, a power that men seem to think naturally belongs to them. (Even my 17-year-old son labors under the delusion that being male, he should "drive" the TV.)
Ah, such is the cruel nature of illness, just as you start to get better, you come back from the land of delusion and thus reality takes a turn for the worse.
The Lildebeest on t'other hand - she's a wry one.
Post a Comment
<< Home