My coworkers have horns and horizontal pupils. At least they don’t take long smoke breaks or spend their paychecks on beer. Unlike my business partner.
As I kid I compared her to Ariel the Little Mermaid with her long red hair and asked if she ever wore a shell bra. The kick to my shins proved she had legs like a girl and not a mermaid’s tail.
My grandma saw me wearing shorts and called me a Lolita. Whatever that means. Said she’d pray for the wickedness to leave my body to make room for Jesus.
Do you ever look at old people and try to see their younger versions? Like reversing a film? … No, someday you’re going to be an old man in thick-soled sneakers and a cardigan. Probably a jaunty cap on your head and a cane you like to twirl. You’ll always be you. I bet the little widows will chase you around and get into catfights over who will bring you your favorite pudding. Good thing you’ll have the cane to beat them back. Except for the ladies on the motorized scooters. Watch out. You won’t be able to outrun those frisky girls.
I adored this refreshing and smartly written tale from beginning to end. The writing sparkled with cleverly dealt levity and crisp visuals; I wore a near-constant smirk while reading. This was my first experience reading Daisy Prescott and although the book was touted as a stand-alone volume in a series, I have a strong desire to go backward and read each installment as well as all other books penned by this talented scribe. I savored her snarky humor, colorful insights, and clever observations. The witty banter and quips tossed off by these quirky and adorable characters were record book worthy. And who could not love a story with baby goats, in pajamas? I mean really? Daisy Prescott is a comedic genius with mad skills. I want to be her when I grow up.