| A rare thing, it is, to name one's child Doily. After all it's not much of a name for a person. It's bad enough for the poor crocheted items, let alone a thinking entity. Nevertheless, it occurred one day in 1977, that two perfectly normal, sane human beings who just so happened to be married and just so happened to be pregnant, just so happened to think that it was perfectly valid to name their little baby girl "Doily" Well little Doily was fine growing up, as most children don't know what a doily is anyway they couldn't rightly make fun of her for being named after one. The troubles started when she became of dating age. One such example I'm afraid, involved yours truly, truly. It just so happened, that little Doily grew up into a stunningly beautiful and intelligent woman. She could have any man she chose and didn't have trouble choosing her share. And I found myself lucky enough to be one of them one day. The circumstances of our meeting were fascinating, hilarious, and intimate, however in the interest of keeping this story short I will not regale you with them. But the fact remains that we were going out and having a grand time of it. I was totally, utterly, helplessly, in love my friends. Oh it was beautiful. I would do anything to keep her as mine and only mine and I hoped to marry her someday and have children of our own someday, maybe name them: Placemat, Chemise, and Dust Cover Jr. And these precise dreams are what led to my incensement that Wednesday afternoon, when at the filling station inserting into my car, some petrol, on my way to take the SAT. When I heard something that I could just not bear to hear; the customer two people ahead of me in line was speaking to the cashier, who either was his friend or very confused, and he said to the baffled friendly cashier "Oh baby, me's gots a date with Doily tonight!" I listened to no more as he could only be speaking of one person of course, my Doily, the love of my life. So I proceeded to kill him. Needless to say I was arrested and put in prison and Doily left me for some chap named Crotchit. I'm still confused as to why the guard always comes around and yells "Snow maybe he's lotsa late with oily to flight." |
| The Dangers of Dating Doilies... |