A ‘fair fight’ on abortion

From the corner of my eye, I could see Ed nodding proudly.

“I’m just thankful for Michael Dukakis (the presidential candidate at the time) and the Democratic Party which is fighting hard to keep those laws off my body!” she screeched.

“Well, all I can say is that when yourself and Michael Dukakis meet your maker, you’ll probably be in the same boat.”

“Yesssss,” whispered the nun behind me. I had an audience now as people gathered around us to see what the fuss was all about.

“Go to hell yourself,” roared the woman, enjoying the attention as she brushed the limp hair from her face. “You’re probably aren’t man enough to knock someone up. That’s why you’re in here with the rest of these losers.”

“Whooooooooooa!” came the collective gasp from the crowd as all eyes turned toward me.

I’m not particularly proud of this, but I do some of my best work in these situations.  Being Irish, I must have the last word and love a good fight, and this victory is almost always achieved at the expense of common sense and decency.

“I’m not sure why you’re getting so worked up about this whole abortion thing,” I shouted. “I mean, who’d screw you with your lousy attitude? Look at that huge dumper on you. Shouldn’t you be hanging around the pen with the rest of the prize pigs?”

Some tattooed biker high-fived me, and as I reached for his palm my eyes met the horrified gaze of Ed and the nun in the booth.
“I’m sorry, I’m just not cut out for this,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders as I untied the strings of my apron. “I think this cause deserves more than what I can give.”

News of what I had done would have reached my mother before I got home, and I was sure to be greeted with some speech about how she couldn’t show her face in the church after that stunt.  There would be a time and a place to deal with that.

At that moment, I just took in a big gulp of night air. Who knew victory smelled like cotton candy and horse dung?

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Nster.com