“It’s a misnomer, you know.”
“What is?”
“Blooming roses and winter. Snow. Ice. It’s just wrong.”
“So which do you not like? Roses, or winter?”
“I love roses. I don’t mind winter. I just don’t think they belong together.”
“Well, relax. Those roses won’t be likely to survive the freeze. They’ll be black and dead tomorrow.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s life. You know what? I think maybe YOU are the one who’s a misnomer!”
“What? Why?”
“Your name is Joy.”
“Hey, Sal, here’s a hot one for ya!” hollered Roger as he slid the plastic tub down the line.
Sal glanced, shivered. “Creepers, I hate it when people do this. Sending cremains by the mail is just freaky! Glad I don’t have to touch the box. Hey, Roger, you know anything about this?”
“What? What do you mean? What kind of question is that?” Rogers eyes went wide and bloodshot.
“Hey, relax, man. Settle down. It was just a curious question!”
“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” Roger went back to sorting, an oddly twisted grin on his lips.
Annie sat quietly in the back seat. It had been a long, dull journey across the plains, and she was indulging her imagination to help pass the time.
As they passed a rare grove of trees and undergrowth, Annie spied a railroad track floating above the brush. She watched until it was too far behind them to see.
Turning around to face forward, she said, “Mommy, is that what the song is about?”
“What song, Annie?”
“You know, the one about life and a mountain railroad.” Annie began to hum.
“Under!”
“Over!”
“Under!”
“Oh good grief. This is not worth arguing about. It’s easier to reach when it’s coming over the top. If you want to dig for it, then put it the other way. I’ll change it every time!”
“I’m going to get you a cat.”
“I don’t want a cat.”
__________________________
The cat stood on the toilet seat and pawed the toilet paper–from the top–into a tangled mess.
“I TOLD you I didn’t want a cat!”
“I told YOU to hang the TP so it comes from UNDER the roll.”
“That was before the stupid cat. . . “
Just Writing! 