I hate being called “Hon”. Especially in that way of an old Southern Belle wanna be. Kinda like “darhlin’ “, but hickier somehow.
My unlisted number phone had been plugged into the barn wall for about 10 minutes when it rang. Brrrrring! Brrrrrring!
“Hello!” says me.
“Now, Hon…”(this isn’t exactly starting off of the right foot with new neighbors I can tell by her frosty tone), “Your tree has fallen over on my fence and what’re you gonna do about it?”
“Uhm…Huh?” “Who *is* this?!?”
“I’m ova here on the back side of yore propaty and yore big ole tree has smashed my mama’s fence!, HON!”
Needless to say, I was stunned…to be called “Hon”, “HON!”, and for the rude welcome to the neighborhood. (more…)
Have an Effie 