Don’t Touch the Table

I’m very protective of my nephew and nieces. She just met him in a bar one night. Nobody knew him. So when he came in the door to take her out, I asked a thousand and one questions.

After the second question he said, “you ask a lot of questions.” I said, “Yeah I do. Does that bother you?”

He goes, “as a matter of fact it does. I don’t think I want to answer anymore of your questions.”

“Well then, you can hit the door.” My niece is sitting there shyly.

“You want to take her out, to leave the house with her, you’ll answer my questions.” They were like, where do you work? Where do you live? I’m not shy. I don’t care. You don’t like it, it’s just too bad. I finally told him, “you can leave.”

He said, “Mary, let’s go.”

She says, “I’m not going.”

Then he says,”Then I’ll stay.”

We started talking. The coffee table was glass, perfect, nothing on it, just been cleaned. So I was finally going to let them leave together. He was a real smart aleck.

So he puts his hands on the glass. Thump! And says, “Here. In case I don’t come back, you got a good set of prints.”

When he left, my other niece said, “Let me clean the table.” You could see all his ten fingers. I yelled, “Don’t touch the table, until she walks in the door!” I wouldn’t have done that years before.