yustyoking

           My 91-year-old mom and I take Billy McCluskey and family to dinner. Billy is an Air Force pilot.

            I discover a fly swimming in the last ¼ of my mom’s beer.

            I point it out to Billy.

            “You seem to have gotten some extra protein in your drink,” he tells mom.

             I fish out the fly with a spoon and deposit it on the edge of a plate. I figure he’s dead, but oh no, our uninvited guest is just getting started: Waterlogged or not, he marches over to the french fries and helps himself to some ketchup. I rescue my fries, shoveling them onto another plate.

             We relinquish the ketchupy plate to the fly.

             “Kate Middleton,” Bill points out, “has fulfilled every little girl’s dream of growing up and marrying a pilot.”

              Ten minutes later, the fly is still eating! I put the plate on the floor by one of the restaurant’s faux fireplaces. When our Latina waitress comes with the check, the fly has skedaddled, but now the waitress wants to know why there is a plate full of ketchup on the floor!

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