He really does have a killer smile.
Then I realize what he said—the guy does distract, know what I mean? “Multifaceted? I didn’t know we were going into weather changes now.”
“We’re not, but I am an expert on golf, basketball, football, skiing, and even NASCAR. See?”
Hope springs eternal. “Oh! You mean you’re going to handle a part of the network’s sports catalog.”
“I should hope they don’t waste my knowledge.”
Relief is sweet and welcome. I smile. “I’ve never known Aunt Weeby or Miss Mona to let anything go to waste. I would imagine your days as a gemstone host are numbered.”
“Fine by me.”
And then I hear it. That familiar
“Awww . . .” Aunt Weeby sighs. “Isn’t that sweet, Mona? They do look just like some of them dolls on a big ol’ wedding cake. They make the nicest couple.”
“I told you they would, right from the minute I saw him,” her sidekick answers. “The good Lord’s given me great instincts.”
To his credit, Max gulps, turns a sickly shade of green, then backs away from me as fast as his shuffling feet can go.
Now wait a minute! I don’t like Aunt Weeby’s and Miss Mona’s meddling, but I’m not a bubonic plague carrier either. I glare, and turn on the troublemaker.
“What are you doing here?” I ask my aunt. “Last I knew, you were settled in with your third cup of coffee, your second biscuit, and your HDTV blaring Tony Danza on his talk show.”
“Mona stopped by on her way to work. I reckon being here’s more fun than watching women what got their stomachs stapled and their boobs blowed up. That’s what that boy’s got on his show this morning. Besides, you showed me how to TiVo the thing so’s I can watch my programs later.”
Foiled by advanced technology. I’d bought her the TV thinking it would keep her entertained while she recovered.
Great idea, right? See how well it worked? I call it the Aunt Weeby effect.
In the hope of regaining some control over the conversation, if not my current situation, I tip my head toward the set. “Who’s on right now?”
“Wendy’s hosting our Fat Busters segment,” Miss Mona answers. “It’s very successful.”
“I’ll bet,” Max mutters. “Never heard of it.”
Neither have I. “What exactly
“Why, honey,” Miss Mona says, her eyes opened wide, “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of them. Fat Busters is the best thing in helping folks maintain their figures. It’s from China.”
Aunt Weeby nods.
Max gives me a don’t-ask-me look.
“Oh-kaaay. It’s popular and Chinese. Just exactly what is it?”
After a glance at her watch, Miss Mona points toward the set. “Since you and Max have plenty of time before your show, why don’t you go watch Wendy for a moment. I’m sure she explains better than I can.”
Wendy’s soft southern accent reaches us as we approach the set. “. . . viscosity polymers allow an amazing stretch. So, girls . . . ? Listen to me”—she raps her scarlet claws . . . er . . . fingernails on the show-host desk—“y’all want to make sure you get your set of Fat Busters before they run out. The sooner you get them, the sooner you’ll bust that fat around the gut and glutes.”
In her hand, Wendy holds . . .
“It’s a girdle!” Max exclaims just as tactfully as he denied the existence of spessartite garnets yesterday.
Everyone turns on him. “Shhhh!”
Miss Mona’s frown is nothing to mess with. “That’s not a girdle, Max. I’ll have you know it’s the finest and latest technology. Just listen to Wendy.”
“. . . for any of you just joining me now at the top of the hour, welcome! I’m so happy you can spend some time with me. Let’s have some fun and help each other out here. Oh yes. Before we go any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Wendy, and I’ll be with you for the next hour . . .”
Former cheerleader Wendy has the market cornered on perky.
“. . . isn’t it great? I’ll tell you, there’s not much advanced technology can’t do. Fat Busters are self-contained, fat-breaking bands that do their thing while you do yours—and they do it
Okay. I’m as willing to give technology a chance as the next girl, but . . . “It’s a girdle.”
Max grins. “Told ya.”
“Can’t argue with fact.”
“And there’s no such thing as an orange garnet.”
