On Caturday, I taked a baybee outside. In the hall, we ran into our neighbor. She was wearing a Klingon outfit and letting in a guest. A baybee stared up at her. “Oh, she’s getting so big,” my neighbor said. I assume she felt fleeting shame at this moment. “Yes, sure is! Oh well, another dull Saturday,” I opined, and ran for my life. Her guest was not wearing a Klingon outfit, but maybe his was in the car.
Mr. H missed the outfit, but I told him about it with great joy in my heart.
“The forehead thingy?” he asked eagerly.
“Like she worked at Kings Dominion.”
“The boots?” he asked in disbelief.
“And a cape.”
Now, we waited around outside an awfully long time with camera phones ready, but no luck. Still, knowing there was a Klingon across the hall left me on pins and needles. Might as well dangle a squirming toddler in front of a pit bull. “I’ll be right there,” I’d say, “I just have to hang up my cape.” Some things are just too good to drop.
I can only hope that next weekend brings more of the same. I wonder what her husband was wearing? Bless the people who think to dress up as Klingons, bless them every one. Perhaps it sounds as if I am making fun, but I enjoyed this deep in my soul.