"My goodness, she always seemed like such a nice woman," is what her neighbors will say after the nosy Internet police come for my mother.
This week Mom has Googled torture devices and ordered gun holsters online. In real life she's backed up her suspicious online movements by borrowing a car battery from the local auto shop. Goodness knows what she got up to in the thrift shops.
Mom does props for Ephrata Performing Arts Center and in March they will put on The Pillowman, a rather dark comedy.
When the spooks arrive at my mother's door to investigate, they will find her kitchen full of baby toes made from marzipan & glue-on pedicure toenails (who knew there was such a thing?). She sculpted an experimental batch and is testing them for resilience over time. They get thrown on stage and if they are too dry they will bounce unrealistically.
Do you think "But, officer, I'm a prop mistress!" will hold water with the authorities, or should I get the bail money ready now? She just turned "three years older than dirt" yesterday - I wonder if the bail bondsmen offer a senior discount?
Happy birthday, Mom!
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