Friday, September 25, 2009
As the Dorcas Class members were walking from their Sunday school class to the front door, one of them invited the other over for tea. She said, “We’ll use the little miniature cups and saucers my sister’s boy sent me for my birthday.”
“They’re called “demitasse cups,” the other replied with an affected accent.
“No,” said the first. “They aren’t French. Our family doesn’t buy French. They are just little miniature cups and saucers.” That started a “they are” “they ain’t” “they are” “they ain’t” match that didn’t end well.
To make a long story short, let’s just say that by the time the preacher and Harry Cox separated the two, their lipstick was all over their faces, and both feathered hats lay in shambles on the ground.
The preacher was pushing the bigger of the two into a car as she was yelling “COMMUNIST UPPITY *@#&%!” at the top of her lungs. The other, being held back by her husband, was shouting just as loudly, “MORON! UNCOUTH IDIOT HICK!”
