…only knowed one true blonde in my life…she was bald-headed…
Monroe D. Underwood
Betsy would breeze into the office about eleven in the morning.
Almost every day.
Betsy worked nights usually.
She would sit in the client’s chair.
After she had dusted it.
With wild swooping motions.
So I would know that she knew nobody had sat in it.
Betsy would lean back and cross her long legs.
Betsy wore very short skirts.
And black underclothing.
Most of the time.
She would say how goes it Philo?
I would shrug.
I would say oh just great.
Betsy would say how good is just great?
I would say well right now I am running down a few missing space capsules for NASA.
Betsy would toss her head.
Her blonde hair would shimmer.
Her pale blue eyes would twinkle.
She would say horsecrap.
Then she would say I’ll take you to lunch.
I would say okay.