foolishness and fools and pranks and ghouls!

mes amis,

on this first day of april, and my favorite of holidays, i have had to result to pranks over g chat and not the kind of usual fooling antics i like to get up to.

ho ho ho!

ho ho ho!

in my youth i recall a rainy april first in which i pleaded with my mother to come and pick me up from my job-ette after school. the job was at my pediatrician’s office and i filed files. every now and then i’d see a student from my high school and pretend i didn’t know him or her. it was not very thrilling. the florescent lights. the manilla files. the alphabetization.  but enjoyable to earn some pocket money and of course a scary glimpse into work life to come.

a fine film (and actor!)

a fine film (and actor!)

my mother arrived in her white station wagon, ‘the rust bucket’ downstairs at the doctor’s office and i got in making sure to slam the car door with dramatic flourish. “what’s wrong?” my nervous mother asked. “just drive,” i said. she obeyed turning the wheel and hitting the gas pedal. we drove a few blocks in the raid before my mother pleaded, “what happened?”

i described an invented scenario. in it my boss, the rotund wife of one of the doctor’s in the office cooperative with a nimbus of gray hair but menacingly mellifluous voice, called me into her office and complained that i had a bad attitude and  wasn’t filing quickly enough. i told my mother that had retorted to name calling. “i said, ‘you’re fat and i quit!” my mother nearly drove off the road.

putting the car in this toon!

putting the car in this toon!

“april fools!” i said before cackling like the young wit i once was. ooh the salad days of one’s youth! today my mother and i spoke on the phone and there was no fooling. just catching each other up on facts and stories and thoughts.

in other news i was most amused by this recent reading in the telegraph about oscar wilde. indeed:

“The best work in literature is always done by those who do not depend on it for their daily bread and the highest form of literature, Poetry, brings no wealth to the singer. Make some sacrifice for your art and you will be repaid but ask of art to sacrifice herself for you and a bitter disappointment may come to you.”

i have recently donated some pocket money to this worthy project, the hotel colors on kickstarter.  i encourage you to do the same!
a bientot mes amis,

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