Not Quite Right

Statistics tell us that one out of every five people on earth is Chinese, and there are five people in my family, so one of them must be Chinese. It's either my mom or dad, my older brother Leroy, or my younger brother Ho-Chan-Chu. Personally, I think it's Leroy, he's always been a little 'different'.

I'm staying home tonight, I'm too embarrassed to leave the house. My wife has decided she wants to become a mime.

Yes... that's right, a mime... the most disgraceful and insipid of all art forms. I'd rather come home from work and find a Robert Maplethorpe collection in our den! Why would anyone want to emulate some garish, white-faced nut whose entire reason for existence is to annoy total strangers in parks and public gathering places? I don't get it!

Now, she spends her evenings walking across the living room, palms thrust forward, searching for that invisible pain of glass... all the while grinning like a baby with a gas bubble.

Mercifully, occasionally she disappears behind the sofa, as she practices walking down the invisible stairs. At that point, it's all I can do to keep from slamming and locking the invisible lid to the invisible cellar.

During more cogent moments, she speaks of her 'muse'. I've never been one to belittle an education, but if this is an example of what books can do, I'm glad I confine my excursions into the world of literature to the occasional story in Field and Stream. If I see one bill for 'muse service', all bets are off, I swear to God they are!

Well, I'd better go. I think I'm going to go see if I can trap her in her invisible box.