One time, while living in the house on Dora Drive, my mother was refinishing the kitchen table.
She was out on the back porch and had taken a few minutes to warm up a can of Chef Boyardee Spaghetti and Meatballs for my sister Sandra and me.
We were sitting at my sister’s doll table eating our spaghetti when my sister leans over and says, “You are eating bloody worms.”
I told her no, we weren’t, but she insisted that we were. I started to tell my mother, but my sister stopped me. She said, “Momma will tell you it is really spaghetti so you will eat it without crying, but they are really bloody worms.”
I yelled, “Mama!” and my mother replied, “Shut-up and eat your bloody worms.”
And people wonder why I grew up warped.
That is funny.
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