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Words by Mil Silver      Art by Patrick Witmer

Smooth Talker

Having been born, raised and edgya-cated in the Podunk town of Redstone, I was probably 23 or so before someone kindly pointed out I was mispronouncing the word perform. The occasion was this:


In keeping with our long-standing family Christmas customs, I’d invited a wowza looking young lady to accompany me to my childhood church where the little kids of the congergation were persenting the Nativity.


“You won’t believe how gooda preformers these little kids is,” I stated to sweeten the deal. She stared at me all bewildered or sumpin, before finally asking, “What are they going to preform, Play-doh?” Now it was my turn to look bewildered, but I quickly caught myself in order to maintain an air of swave sufistication.


“No, no,” I said emphatically, “it has nothing to do with Plato, the Nativity is a Christian thing.”


“But you said the little kids were going to “pre-form, right?” the foxy lady said cautiously.


“Righto,” I replied. “They dress up as Joseph, Mary and The Three Wise Men. Some even pertend to be sheep! I was certain the prospect of little kiddos dolled up in sheep costumes would capture her interest.


Well, my perspective date and possibly future wife didn’t say nuthin for morna minute and I began to wonder if the wind had changed. I’d been sure to takin’ a good bath before settin’ out for the day, but talkin’ to girls always made me a little sweaty in the pits. I glanced smoothly back over my shoulder to take a whiff, but they say you can’t really smell yerself, so I don’t know what good it did.  


Suddenly, the wonderous woman with the irresistible shape began to laugh, and I was sure she’d busted me in the act of assessing myself for potential odor, discreet as I had been.


“Oh,” she muttered between hoots and hollers, “you mean the kids are going to perform the Nativity and pretend to be sheep. You seem to have a slight problem getting your r’s in the right places.”


Talk about embarrassamento. Now it was my turn to be silent. I sure didn’t want to be critical, but this gal, purty as she was, had a lot to learn bout spellin’ and pernunciation. I’d probably lost a little of my self-assurance by then, and shouldn’t a said what I said next, but I went ahead and blurted it out anyway.


“Geez, girly girl,” I says, “I ain’t lookin’ for no grammar ner spellin’ lessons here. I was just hopin’ you might like to join me in celebrating a super good Christmas terdition!”

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