They said that she had “junk in the trunk”; but, I think that this was a way to avoid talking about her large ass. Not that it was noticeable—Most of your attention was focused upon her face, which was flat and hard, like a surfboard, but with hair and eyes. I wouldn’t say that she was ugly…at least, not to her face. The worst one could say was that she was startling the first time that you saw her; then, less startling every subsequent time. When you ultimately got used to her appearance, it was easy to get taken aback by the startled cries of “Good Christ!” and “What’s all this, then?” that were made by those who had laid eyes upon her for the very first time. When one had acclimated to her appearance, one found that she was a fascinating conversationalist. Her knowledge of Peruvian crime and criminals before the sixteenth century was nothing short of awe expiring. She could talk for hours about the Beatles and never once mention their music. If you got her in the right mood, she would wax on for hours about her childhood in Nevada and her many felony arrests for throwing sticks and bark into Utah. Sometimes she’d regale us with other stories; occasionally, instead of regaling us, she’d simply deep-fry the two smallest people in the group and eat them. Although she never explicitly stated it, I am sure that she would’ve shared if we’d asked her. She was like that: She either hated you, loved you or ate you. Things came to a head in our relationship when she stuffed a Chinese sailing ship and its occupants into my Ford Taurus as a joke. “Who has a junk in the trunk now?”, she laughed, tossing her hair to one side and her ears to the other. Shortly after that she moved into a larger house, without doors or windows…or perhaps I had the wrong address…
Potatoes and the Promise of More Potatoes 
she sounds like great company, it’s a shame your junk comments got to her, but then ‘hated you’ is the farthest from ‘ate you’ status.
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She was okay until she bought a tuba…
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I see, that ‘s a conversation killer
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Except the conversation that starts with, “would you stop blowing that damned tuba?”…
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I’m beginning to wonder about your dating choices, are you sure your not looking for love in the WANTED ads? 🤔
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No, I check the obituaries for men my age who’ve died and swoop in on the widows…
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Hang on to her. You never know when vast pre 16th century Peruvian criminal knowledge will come in handy…
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It already has… and saved my life!
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It’s hard not to love someone who can talk for hours about the Beatles, but the eating thing, I’m not sure that’s a risk worth taking. Especially deep-fried with all the negative health implications.
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Which is a shame, because the breading part is kind of fun…
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Science takes all the fun out of life.
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Plus, according to a song I once heard, it can blind you…
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She hasn’t eaten you yet, so there’s that….
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I try to bathe as little as possible…
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