Pop goes the Weasel

At our agonizingly slow Easter brunch, Rick began to tell us the story of someone who'd had a car accident recently. Probably someone he saw on the news... because I didn't hear about any of our friends being in an accident. And because he watches the news. Incessantly.

Our brunch was so long and so slow that Rick had time to tell the whole story. But since my mind was on my food, I only half heard the story. Periodically I would look up and see his lips moving. And a few words that were coming out.

"And then the red car... and then the blue car... and then the SUV..."

* yawn *

"And then it happened..."

Wha? Okay, I'll bite... what happened, Rick?

"His balloons popped."

Liz and I just looked at each other. I no longer was sure that I'd even heard any of the story.

"His what?"

"You know, they popped."

And then I knew what he was talking about. And I laughed. And Liz laughed. And Rick didn't get it. He thought we were crazy laughing at a poor soul who just had his airbags deploy.
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