The Girl has been collecting Wizard of Oz dolls from the McDonald's Happy Meals. OK, so kill me, I have been collecting them! Hey, they are Madame Alexander. That used to mean something (before they sold their soul to corporate hell and outsourced to China, said the childhood collector). Anywho, we have a veritable plethora of Wicked Witch dolls (four) because she won't let me switch them at the drive-thru window as I paw through the bag. The Girl thinks The Wicked Witch is quite pretty, and aside from the fact she is green, this Madame Alexander version is cute. The Girl has not seen the movie, so she thinks witches are pretty and nice and dress in black.
Cue the uncomfortable scene at the grocery store...
Minding our own business in the produce section, we pass an older lady wearing an oddly shaped black straw hat, a billowy black gauze shirt over white capris, with black open-toe sandals. Suddenly, The Girl announces, "Hey mom, that lady looks like a witch!" I died. Then I quietly added, "Huh huh huh. She's really into the Wizard of Oz and loves the witch. Um sorry. Huh huh huh, ahem." Then I died again. The lady said in a boozy Southern drawl and one wandering eye, "That's fine. She can call me a witch anytime."
For some unknown reason as I retreated, I took a quick peek at her feet. And what did I see? LONG TOENAILS! Giant freakishly long yet unpainted or filed toenails. TOENAILS A WITCH WOULD HAVE. Then I barfed. And died again.
2 comments:
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! God I love her...
There's a reason some people call it "Ventucky."
Post a Comment