Shaken, not stirred, I said.
Yes sir. One olive or two, sir? he asked.
One, I replied while slightly adjusting my bow tie.
Looking in the mirror behind the bartender’s head, I spotted HER approaching.
A brief shudder of fear went through my body like an electric shock, but I gave no outward sign. I knew I had but seconds to make my escape.
Turning and stepping away from the bar, the bartender suddenly grasped my sleeve.
Sir, you forgot your martini.
That’s all it took, and she was upon me, like a rat on cheese.
There you are! she said, her voice grating on my ears like chalk on a chalkboard. You must let me introduce you to my daughter, Bertha.
Bertha. I’d heard she had lots of personality. Pounds and pounds of it, in fact.
Dragging me by my elbow, she pulled me to the other side of the room, and suddenly, there she was.
Dad. DAD!
Blinking, I slowly looked around and realized I was standing in front of the open refrigerator, and my daughter was speaking to me.
Dad, quit hogging the grapes and close the door already. Other people want something to eat, too.
Sigh. Guess I shouldn’t have stayed up watching that James Bond marathon last night.

Easy   Medium   Hard   Tough