Sick day with Mrs. P

My sister and I are sitting in my parents’ livingroom, wearing a comfortable lounging outfits and eating fattening things. I have a cold. We each have a couch to ourselves.

The TV is on. It’s playing a commercial, featuring a pleasantly plump soccer mom type who, no doubt, has been selected specifically in order to make the commercial’s intended audience — pleasantly plump soccer moms — feel comfortable. It makes me feel so comfortable that I forget what she’s shilling, even while I’m watching it.

I’m more interested in her hair, which is short and curly, like a purse-dog’s.

“See,” I say to Mrs. Piddlington. “That hair. THAT’s what I think my hair looks like.”

She looks at me in shock. Horror. Pity. “THAT’s what you think your hair looks like? You’re INSANE.”

I nod, sadly. She’s got me there.

She looks at the screen again, and then back at me. Poodle Lady is making spokesmodel gestures, which she’s not really suited to do. Again, God knows what product she’s advertising.

“Her hair,” Mrs. Piddlington says, “Is like ramen noodles.”

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

5 thoughts on “Sick day with Mrs. P

  1. I would like to clarify if I may. This is Ma Smash answering, and I am Jen’s potty mouthed mother. Mrs. P. is her adorable baby sister, the one who is married to the soldier in Iraq. I am certainly NOT married to a soldier, in Iraq or any where else for that matter. I am too old for such tiring carrying on. I am married to Mr. Smash, Jen’s father, who sits in his chair and watches all the madness and occasionally bombs us with common sense. I can’t think why I married such a logical person.
    Come to think of it, I wonder if there are any soldiers out there who would like to meet me? Besides Mr. P., who is really Lt. P. and is married to Jen’s sister. You see how this is going?

  2. Hey! I am Mrs. P: loyal supporter and avid defender of Jennie Smash. I pat her hair when she is sad, laugh at all of her jokes (not a difficult thing to do), and bite the ankles of anyone who crosses her! Beware my wrath! Grrr!

  3. For all the attention soccer mom’s get in advertisement, you’d really think soccer would be a bigger sport around here. And what about the poor little league moms? I bet they get their feelings hurt.

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