Really, Mr. Rockwell?
by
Picture - #19
DISCLAIMER: - Story and characters are mine.
“Oh, golly!” Martha unhappily exclaimed as she and her husband read in their living room Sunday night.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Bob asked, peering over the sagging corner of his newspaper. His pipe dangled from the corner of his mouth and his glasses slid halfway down his nose as he peeked over the top of them.
“Did you see this, Bob? Look at the cover of yesterday’s Post.”
Bob carefully folded his newspaper and set it on the arm of his chair. Then, Martha handed him the Post. He studied it thoughtfully for a while. “I don’t see anything, honey.”
“Mr. Rockwell drew happy-looking people.”
“Yes. So?”
“It’s not like that out there, dear. When I was out Christmas shopping last week, people banged into me, hassled me, and nearly stampeded me. Being in a crowd like that isn’t a happy thing, Bob. I wonder if Mr. Rockwell knows what American life is truly like anymore.”
“I don’t know, honey. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Bob dug around in the cushions of his chair and changed the subject.
“I was going to give you this tomorrow, but I suppose it would be all right if you opened it tonight.” He handed her a long green box with a red bow on it.
Martha opened it. “Oh, Bob! It’s beautiful!” She pulled out a pearl necklace from the box and turned around so he could put it on her. She then turned back to him, hugged him, and gave him a big kiss.
Then, Bob pulled away, looked down at her, and smiled. “Sometimes the crush is worth it.”
End
Story by: THE BARD OF NEW MEXICO
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