What’s on my mind? The other day, while biting into a chicken salad, my friend “J” lost a tooth. “J” says she chomped a chunk of gristle. Knowing “J,” Himself says she probably bit off more than she could chew - that being the cap of a beer bottle.
A-ny-hoo, I am far, far too discreet to reveal “J’s” full initials. As for outing Judy Peterson’s identity, I won’t say one word. Okay, maybe three or four …
“J” and I have been friends for 52 years - even longer than I’ve kept some of the leftovers in my fridge. “J” has been our house guest for the past couple of days. Which is how she came to find that the Tooth Fairy had magically left a quarter under her pillow, her tooth having fallen out, and all.
(For a modest fee of $25 US, I will send you an un-retouched photo of a grinning Judy’s entire face, sans tooth. Handling and emailing charges apply).
Late yesterday afternoon, while “J” and I were sauntering around the block, we met a stunningly gorgeous man. He was 80 years old, 80 pounds overweight, sweaty, and bald. What made him so stunningly gorgeous was that my once-finely honed hunting instincts screamed that he was a widower. My toothless friend “J” is single. This was a match made in heaven.
He smiled and nodded. She smiled (mouth closed) and nodded. He said something about gardening. She might have said something about the weather, but with her mouth closed, it sounded like: “Mmmff-mmmff-mmmff!” I’m not really sure what they did or didn’t say. Details, shmetails!
With a small, friendly wave, the stunningly gorgeous widower turned his back to us and began drifting into his house. All I could think of was that this magic moment mustn’t end! In seconds, I’d hatched a plan.
“JU-DY!” I rasped. (That’s Judy Peterson, aka my friend “J,” as you’ll remember).
“Pretend to fall down! I’ll catch you and I’ll scream ‘Help! Help!’ and he’ll come running and I’ll say ‘She’s fainted!’ and he’ll carry you into his house and you’ll be married in three weeks.”
That was the advice I gave Judy Peterson, whose full initials I am too polite to reveal. I thought about giving her some fake name - “Judy Paulsen,” for example - but Judy Paulsen is another friend (with a full set of teeth, mind you) who may not appreciate being confused with “J.”
On hearing my plan, “J” turned to me with one of those looks that said: “Ya gotta be kiddin’…” and tapped the hole in her mouth with her finger.
You snooze, you lose: The stunningly gorgeous widower would probably have given her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and would probably have got his tongue stuck in the gap in her teeth as she lay spread-eagled on the pavement. I believe being spread-eagled on the pavement is a great way to spark a whirlwind engagement and marriage, but “J” missed the boat on that one, yep-yep-yep!
Today, “J” and I took a walk through some nearby woods (constantly on the lookout that the stunningly gorgeous widower might just be following us).
The susuration of the wind whistling through the trees and through the hole in “J’s” mouth made for some beautiful music! Unfortunately, “J” doesn’t appreciate the beauty of nature, kvetching that the wind blowing through the hole in her mouth left her with nerve pain.
So I hatched another plan, quite similar to the first (except for the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation part). To hell with the tooth, I thought. We’re going to walk by that stunningly gorgeous widower’s house as soon as I finish writing this post.
At the very moment “J’s” not looking, I’m going to stick out my foot, deliberately trip her, and start calling for help as soon as she loses consciousness. I’ve always wanted to be someone’s matron-of-honor, and this is my big chance.
So here’s a preview photo of “J,” covering up her mouth. You can see it all, with my 100% satisfaction guaranteed $25 US upfront email offer. Operators are standing by.
We will not reveal this woman’s true identity, but this is NOT! NOT! NOT! Judy Peterson. This is Judy Paulsen.
© Nicole Parton, 2019
