I went with Mom, Dad and Carlos on their annual cemetery rounds. We went to the Wilson Cemetery and put flowers on Aunt Virgie, Maggie and Homer’s graves. We ran out of gas in the Weed-eater so a return trip will be needed.
We drove by Dow Brooks next and put a new flag at Uncle Joe’s headstone. While we were doing that Mom noticed that there were some flowers in Dad’s end of their headstone, but none in her end. That tore her up.
“Who could have done such a thing? You didn’t do that did you?” she asked me.
“No Mom. You know I would make sure there was flowers on your side, and prettier flowers too.”
She thought for a minute and then said, “Must have been one of those concubines of his.”
About that time I got an idea. I bent over the flowers, pushed them around a little bit and, fibbing just a bit more, said to Mom, “Hey, there’s a tag here. It says, ‘From Your Four Loving Daughters.”
My share of the inheritance doubled, right there on the spot. I figure that new motorized wheel chair will probably get me the rest of it.
Clyde
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