Short Stories To Tickle Your Funnybone Read Online Free PDF Page B

hoped so.
Just then, a knock on the door.
Maggie opened the door and Ox strode in
with an armful of electronics.
He gave Maggie a hug, took a look at me,
and to his credit, pretended that nothing
was
different.
I noticed though, that he quickly turned
away and headed for the kitchen with his box. As
he went through the door, I know I heard him
snicker. I know he did.
He returned, composed, and with an air of
professionalism said, “I see you’re ready for our
evening out, Mrs. Williams.”
Maggie had witnessed the exchange and
finally could hold it no longer. She burst into an
uncontrollable fit of laughter that sent Ox over the
edge and the two of them collapsed on the couch.
As I watched their frivolity at my expense,
my first reaction was hurt. Then I felt a wave of
resentment. But as I was about to lash out in
protest, I saw myself in the mirror and I caved in
too.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
**********************************
An excerpt from Lady Justice and the Lost
Tapes
http://booksbybob.com/lady-justice-andthe-lost-tapes_307.html
A Fine Dining Experience
    After my harrowing experience with Li’l D
and the hound from hell, I was exhausted.
Three days undercover and a drug bust
hadn’t left much time for my sweetie. We had
talked on the phone, but we needed an evening
together. We decided we would go out for a nice
dinner and see what developed from there.
I picked Maggie up at her apartment, and
as we
pulled away, I asked if she
had any
preference
in
eating
establishments,
secretly
hoping for Mel’s. No such luck.
Maggie had heard of a new restaurant that
had just
opened in the old garment district
downtown. That area had once been all factories,
but as more and more labor was outsourced to our
friends in China, the factories had closed and sat
empty
for
years. Then came the rebirth of
downtown. Old factory buildings were converted
to luxury
apartments
and condos that were
gobbled up by the yuppie elite. Apparently this
new restaurant, Chez
Francois, was opened to
cater to the tastes of the new downtown gentry.
When we drove up, I knew we were in
trouble right away. A large sign on the curb said
‘Valet Parking Only’. I hate valet parking. I hate
turning my keys over to a pimply-faced kid with a
stud in his lip. I hate waiting in line while they try
to find where they hid my car. I hate tipping some
jerk for something I’m perfectly capable of doing
myself, but I had no choice.
We were escorted inside, and as I looked
around, my suspicions were confirmed. I was in
trouble. The building had once been one of the
big, fancy hotels of the era, but with the decline of
the district, it closed. During the remodel, the
interior had been restored to its former grandeur
with high ceilings and ornate woodwork. Tables
were
set with fine
linen cloths and sparkling
crystal, and from somewhere the strings of a Bach
fugue
or some such thing wafted through the
dining area.
We were seated in a quiet little alcove and
were soon approached by a waiter dressed in a
starched white shirt and black tie. He had on
trousers with a pleat so sharp it would cut your
finger. His demeanor was somber, and he walked
like he had a broomstick up his butt.
He bowed and said, “Good evening, my
name is Rolph, and I’ll be serving you this
evening.”
“Evening, Ralph,” I replied.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “It’s Rolph, not
Ralph.”
This couldn’t be good.
“Uh, yes, Rolph,” I replied and muttered
under my breath. “Whatever.”
He laid a book the size of the Kansas City
phone directory in front of me.“Our wine list, sir.
Would you like a moment?”
I looked at the first page and when I saw
that I couldn’t even pronounce their first offering,
I figured that it might take more than a moment.
Rolph waited expectantly while I looked at
page after page of wines, but I couldn’t find the
Arbor Mist. “You do have Arbor Mist, don’t
you?”
Rolph looked aghast. “I don’t believe