Ugly mint green shirts never die.
If it were my favorite black tee, it would have died after the first season. I have lost countless tops to splattered bleach stains.
When I wear something white to a restaurant it’s a given it will end up leaving a stain nothing short of a nuclear blast will remove.
One of life’s great mysteries is why ugly clothes never seem to encounter accidents. I have hideous garments that will outlive me and several generations that survive me.
All of which brings me to my spouse’s hideous mint green shirt.
This shirt is such an ugly shade of mint green that the cat refuses to nuzzle him when he wears it. I can’t be certain, but he may have it insured. He wears it like a badge of courage. I know he does it to taunt the cat and me.
An evil troll from another dimension controls the shirt. Just when it is on life support it resurrects itself.
It all began here and survives to this day.
I have a dear friend Lillith, who admires my husband (translate to mean pity) and swears should I go to the great beyond before him, there will be throngs of tuna casseroles, delivered within fifteen minutes of my demise.
I have a hunch should that happen and when he is free to wear the ugly mint green shirt 24/7; there will be a serious shortage of tuna casseroles in his household.
Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.