As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose
over his fireplace before Christmas.
He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.
What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because
every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed,
his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true.
I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't
sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse
yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?"
"You're kidding me!" " Who would buy that?"
Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.
I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a
passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do
things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable
Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning
hours, long after Santa had come and gone. I filled the dangling pantyhose
with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what
remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a
couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house
and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog
confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark
some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so
the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the
traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door.
"What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several
candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?"
Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying
to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't
she have any teeth?"
Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no
one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny,
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and
said," Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's
friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to
Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting.
It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died,
who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a
noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning.
Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell
in a heap in front of the sofa.
The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and
Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet
his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and
sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to
decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had
suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks
to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies.
I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
|Is this you?
Maybe you want to give
the deranged woman
a click and read about
the down side of
trying to be perfect.
What's in here?
God rest ye Merry
let nothing you dismay...
|HAPPY HARDY HAR HAR
Hope you are having a nice visit! If you don't mind please take a moment to click and view
some of our sponosrs along the way. Their support helps keep us up and running!
|You can help us by clicking to view
one of our sponsors!
|Please do feel free to make a donation of any size
if you are enjoying your visit with us.
|HouseWifeMafia.com ~ The eMagazine For Women
You Dare make Me Laugh