Ten years ago, I buried my husband and my sense of humor. A pair of dirty socks brought it back. As I planned my revenge, I had no idea how far I’d go. That bully was in for more than a good joke.
My late husband used to call me ‘the most dangerous woman with a microphone.’
At seventy-four, I hadn’t heard that in years.
I’m Margaret, a former amateur comedian from Ohio.
My specialty was making arrogant people laugh before they realized the joke was about them.
The most dangerous woman with a microphone.
My husband Walter loved it.
“Somebody’s going to throw a tomato at you someday.”
“Then I’ll make soup.”
“That’s why I married you.”
After nearly forty years together, I lost him.
Making arrogant people laugh.
Without Walter laughing in the front row, I stopped performing.
I also stopped standing up for myself.
My son Daniel, a plumber with a wife and two children, kept encouraging me to return.
“Dad wouldn’t want you sitting home watching game shows.”
“He wouldn’t want me competing with them. They’re funnier.”
I lost him.
Daniel laughed, but lately he always looked exhausted.
“Everything okay at work?”
“Just busy, Mom.”
I never pushed. I thought respecting his independence meant staying out of his problems.
Last Saturday, I learned otherwise.
I also stopped standing up for myself.
***
I’ve shopped at the same grocery store for nearly twenty years.
Until that morning, I’d never had a serious argument there.
I was reaching for the last carton of eggs when a tall man in his forties shoved his cart beside mine.
“Those are mine, Grandma.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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