It seems retirement has been a common theme as of late. Although I am nowhere near retirement, I regularly practice retirement. I do this by waking up without an alarm (translation: sleeping in), traveling, bird watching, occasionally greeting shoppers at my part-time job (two birds, one stone), yelling ‘slow down’ to cars while sitting on the stoop, gossiping, enjoying morning coffee with friends, owning a BINGO set, working on puzzles, and reading obituaries.
Recently, while at a holiday party, I heard a story about a prostitute who had to momentarily step out of retirement. As the seven dwarfs once sang, “I ho, I ho, it’s off to work I go.” Luckily, a mortician was in the market for fellatio and contributed to her temporary time back in the working world. This, unfortunately, resulted in a staff infection – not to be confused with a ‘simple staph infection’ or any work related injuries – and her inability to work; giving new meaning to the term ‘laid off’.
While enjoying morning coffee with Opreggano, I began to share this story with her. “No way, I heard this story at Thanksgiving,” she interrupted. “Seriously? Ho-liday stories, like other related things, spread so quickly,” I replied and asked, “So how did the story end in the version you heard?” “She had maggots in her mouth,” Opreggano replied. Sure enough, same story.
Like so many other holiday stories, I have a feeling this is one that will be shared for generations to come…or not, if you know what I mean. The moral to the story is easy (like my aunt): re-gifting is not always a good idea.
Ho! Ho! Ho! Happy Ho-lidays!