The Drenchies

It was 9:00 in the evening and Mom came into the Arizona Room to say good night.

“It’s going to be drenchy for the next couple of days,” she announced.  “See you in the morning.”  And with that she was gone.

Bill looked at me and mouthed drenchy?  I simply shrugged and replied, “Your mom used to warn you about stuff that was ‘slippy,’ didn’t she?”

“Yes, but my mom bathed regularly,” he replied.

“What’s that got to do with making up words?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe it gives you more credibility when you’re clean and your hair doesn’t look like… like… like it was really slippy!”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, she finally took a shower so she can make up any words she wants,” I responded.  “Just be on the lookout for the drenchy stuff tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, I will.  Should I wear rain gear or just walk around the yard with an umberella?”

“Neither.  This is Sun City, remember?  Land of Raisins and no moisture,” I replied, grabbing the remote and changing the channel.  “It’ll only be drenchy every else in the valley.  All we’ll have to do is watch the drenchiness all around us while we sip margaritas on the sun porch.”

“Cool, sun porch margaritas!” he exclaimed, almost jumping up and down on the sofa.  “This drenchy thing could be alright.  As long as it doesn’t make the roads too slippy!  We’re supposed to go shoot stuff tomorrow.”



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