"Party Line,"...
Lawrence Toney
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I love people-watching.
Even more, though, I love people-listening. No, not eavesdropping. Eavesdropping is when you are listening to
someone secretly, when you shouldn’t be listening, like in the poster above. But people-listening is the stuff of which great short stories are made. Made, I tell you!
Now, I believe wholeheartedly that when
people are having an audible conversation in a doctor’s waiting room, it’s
because I’m invited to listen. If they didn’t want anyone to hear, they
would go outside. And if I went to the
door to listen to them secretly, that
would be eavesdropping.
So, bearing all of that in mind, I share with you the
following gem that I overheard in the waiting room of a doctor’s office this
morning. These ladies were sitting less
than 10 feet from me. They obviously
wanted me to enjoy their lively conversation, and I did. The very first sentence, which is pure
poetry, drew me in.
Teenaged girl: Some
nasty boy put his fat foot in my flip flop and stretched it out.
Mama: Tell that nasty
boy he owes you $50.
Teenaged girl: He don’t
have $50.
Mama: Send him to me.
Teenaged girl: For
real?
Mama: Yep. I’ll take that $50 outta his skin. Who is he?
Teenaged girl: Robert
*****. You know Betty *****?
Mama: Yes. She’s no longer living, though, is she?
Teenaged girl (laughing):
Yes, she is. She’s Robert’s
mother.
You’re welcome. Have
a nice day.
I love the south.
