Juggs

I was watching cable news in the Arizona Room in between trips to the kitchen to help Bill with dinner.  Mom was watching the local news in the living room.  At one point, Bill had gone into the garage to fetch his favorite side dish, Tater Tots (he calls it the Food of the Gods) from the spare refrigerator, when Mom suddenly called out to anyone within earshot, “Who’s Ashley Juggs?”

I shouted back from the Arizona Room, “Judd, not Juggs.”

“She’s a judge?”

Bill came back into the house at that moment, his little baking tray full of frozen, reconstituted potato nuggets, and gave me a quizzical look.

“Don’t ask,” I sighed, rising from the couch.

“No, Mom, she’s not a judge, she’s a Judd,” I said, trudging into the living room.  “Ashley Judd.  And she’s an actress.  Why?”

“Oh, they were talking about her on the news.  Something about the Senate wanting to put her in a nut house or something.”

I inhaled deeply and blew out a long, slow breath, then replied, “No, Mom.  Mitch McConnell’s office was bugged and his staff was overheard talking about the fact that she spent some time institutionalized and possibly using that against her if she ran for office.”

“Well what does that have to do with bugs in his office?” she asked.  “It seems like he could have just called an exterminator instead of threatening this Ashley Juggs person.”

I glanced towards the kitchen in time to see Bill pull his head back from the doorway, followed quickly by muffled smirks that could be heard above the sound of browning ground beef.

“I suppose you’re right, Mom.  In fact I’m pretty sure most of Washington could use a good exterminator.  Maybe Mitch McConnell should call Truly Nolan next time.”

“Maybe.  Or maybe he should just keep his office cleaner and then he wouldn’t have to worry about getting bugs.”

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