My Point...And I Do Have One

When I say “Ellen,” that person (who, as I said before, I’m sure isn’t you, because you are much too compassionate) immediately develops an obviously fake Russian accent and says, “She not home. She move far away toplace with no phone. I begging you, please leave alone.”
    All that being said, let me begin my apology.
    I think a lot of what happened can be traced back to the rum cake I brought over. I just looked over the recipe, and I see now that it called for two tablespoons of rum. For some reason, maybe because I was nervous because I don’t cook that much, I misread that as two
bottles
of rum. It’s an honest mistake, and your little nephews were eventually going to find out what a hangover is anyway.
    I had at least two slices of the rum cake, and I believe that’s why I blurted out that your real name is Marge. I thought everybody already knew. I also thought that everybody would find your old nickname, “Large Marge,” funny. I understand now that it isn’t funny. Anyway, it shouldn’t bother you because you’re not heavy anymore. Oh yes, I’m also sorry that I told people about your liposuction. But at least I didn’t tell anybody about your breast enlargement surgery. Oh, that’s right, I did. Sorry.
    As for what I call “the Charades incident,” for some reason I get a little competitive (okay, way too competitive) playing party games—once again, to make up for my own insecurities. That’s why when Reverend Green couldn’t figure out I was doing
Fried Green Tomatoes
and kept on guessing
Two Mules for Sister Sarah
(which, you have to admit, isn’t even close—it doesn’t even have the same number of words!) I got mad.
    That in no way excuses my calling him a God damned rat @+%ˇ#$%, *%$@–eating moron. Isn’t it cute when you write curses out that way? It’s too bad I didn’t say it like that. Also, when I jokingly implied that he was a child molester, I had no idea about the recent trial (though I am happy to hear that all the charges have been dropped).
    Now, the gift. I was under the mistaken impression (boy, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?) that the party was for your wedding shower. That’s why I got what I considered to be a gag gift. I didn’t know it was a party for your grandmother’s 90th birthday. Otherwise, I never would have gotten her the crotchless underwear and the coupon for a free nipple piercing.
    I admit I laughed pretty hard when your grammy opened the present (sorry about the wine coming out of my nose onto your new rug—club soda should get out that stain, not cola like I tried), but I thought she was laughing, too. Now I know she was hyperventilating. I swear I’ve never seen anybody’s face turn that red before. That is why I shouted out, “Look at her, heh heh. She looks like a big tomato!”
    Not funny.
    I am glad to hear that your grammy is out of the hospital. I’m the one who sent the big basket of muffins. Nobody told me she was diabetic. She only ate a few of them, and when I called the hospital they said that at most that added three days to her stay there—maybe four.
    This part is the hardest to explain. I know that when you opened the door to your bedroom it looked like I was shaving your dog. Well, I was shaving your dog … but not for the reason you might think. I didn’t say, “Hmmm, I think Marge’s dog—I’m sorry,
Morgana’s
dog—would look better with less hair.” Though, you have to admit, the cut does give Colonel Chompers an interesting look and makes him seem quite distinguished (I don’t care what the judges at the dog show say).
    What happened was, in trying to spit my gum across your kitchen and into the trash can (a trick I do remarkably well, usually) I missed, and the gumlanded in Colonel Chompers’ fur. I tried to pull it out, but it just made matters worse. So I snuck him into your bedroom with the hope of finding some scissors and cutting the gum out. I didn’t locate scissors, but I did find your Lady Gillette and thought, hey, this might work—which eventually it did. The gum came out. I am sorry that some got on your drapes. I thought they were tissue paper.
    But, you have every right to ask, why was I wearing your bathing suit while shaving your dog? Good question. In looking for the scissors, I found the bathing suit in the third drawer of your bureau (I didn’t look in your second drawer, so you have no reason to be embarrassed). I had seen that suit in a store that day