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The woman sitting across the table from me wasn't my girl-
friend, just someone that I dated briefly. I noticed that she wasn't
eating the guacamole--in fact, she hadn't touched it at all. Thinking
this was somewhat odd, I asked why.

"Because it looks like baby shit," she said, matter-of-factly. She
wrinkled her nose with disgust.

I observed that she was gobbling away at her frijoles refritos
with much gusto, so I asked her what she thought that looked like.

She didn't respond.

I answered for her, "It looks like puppy shit." Then I noted,
"You don't seem to have any problem eating that."

"Let's change the subject," she said.

After a brief silence, I offered, "Your hair looks nice tonight."

She had what I'd call the stereotypical 'Texas big hair':  thick,
blonde, and conspicuously stiff with hairspray. I said to myself, Too
bad that she's got more substance on the outside of her head than on
the inside.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, clearly flattered by the untruth.

"By the way, if you're not gonna eat the guacamole, I'll take it."

"Baby shit!" she grinned, with all the maturity of someone half
her age, "Go ahead, it's all yours."

As I picked up the dish, I resisted the impulse to smear the tangy
green goop all over her heavily made-up face. She didn't realize just
how lucky she was, but I would've hated to see good food go to waste.

© by Jack T. Marlowe

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