b alone

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Copyright © 2009, Michael M Wayman

I was sitting on a bench when a bus stopped and forty women got out. Oh, no!

I'm not unhappy with my life, I sit around, I do nothing, I help women, but not forty at a time. Too much!

I closed my eyes, I opened my eyes, there was one woman in front of me. She picked me up and put me in her blouse pocket. She walked down into the town to the riverside. She sat on a bench, took me out of her pocket and sat me on the bench.

She put me in her pocket and went home. She took me out of her pocket and sat me on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

She found me useful for many things – mostly in the sitting position.

Time went by, as I have said before.

One day she took me to a friend of hers. She took me out of her pocket and sat me next to the radio on the refrigerator in the kitchen. She had a long chinwag with her friend. It was the first time that I had heard her speak and long she did speak.

The radio played the Wilhelm Tell music and I fell off the refrigerator.

Who was that?

That was the Lone Ranger.