We All Have Our Days

That last post reminded me of a heartwarming story of a man who called home one day from work and his Mexican house keeper answered the phone in her broken English.

“Ola!” she said.

“Let me speak to my wife.” The man said.

“Uh! I’m sorry, Senior. She up on second floor with mailman.”

“WHAT? Why the sluttish whore. Listen, go in my desk drawer, get my gun and shoot both the bastards.”

“But, Senior, I cannot do that. I could get into trouble.”

“Listen you wetback illegal whore, if you don’t do it I am calling Immigration and having you and your whole family deported back to Mexico by night fall.”

“Yes, sir! I will try.”

“Try my ass. Get my gun and shoot both of them, NOW. I’ll wait on the phone until you do it and then I’ll tell you what to do with the gun and who to call.”

“Yes, sir!” And she lays the phone down. A few minuets later he hears a couple of gun shots. Then a pause and two more shots that sounded closer. Then she came back on the phone and said, “It is done.”

"Tell me! Tell me the whole thing. Uh! Why were there two shots so close to the phone?”

“Well, they were in bed and I shot the misses first. But he gringo, he slipped by me and run down steps. I chase him out the patio door and shot him. He fell into the pool.”

“POOL?? What Pool? Is this 555-1253?”