On the way home from a day of swimming and a picnic at Lake Waveland, it was so stinkin’ hot, Aunt Francis took her shirt off and was doing 65 down Highway 47 in her bra–pointing to houses and farms. “That’s where Lilly Anne grew up. Remember her? She married so & so and lives over by your cousins in New Market. Oh, and that used to be Ed’s place–remember–he’s your Uncle Fred’s friend.…”
Later on that evening she said, “Don’t know what the big fuss was all about. What’s the difference between a bra and a bikini top? I know it was a white Playtex Cross Your Heart from JCPenney’s, but the officer didn’t have to be so rude about it. I might as well have had a rattlesnake on my head, a dead cat in my lap and a coffin tied to the top of the station wagon.”
When we finally made it home, Aunt Francis was so aggravated, she forgot to put sugar in the sweet tea and nearly set her favorite apron alight leaning over the stove fixing Uncle Fred’s supper.
Uncle Fred really didn’t give two shits that his wife was driving around in her bra. He was just mad as hell about the fifty dollar speeding ticket. After he cooled off, he said he thought the bra incident was about the funniest damned thing he’d ever heard–especially since his buddy Ed saw Aunt Francis drive by and thought his eyes were playing tricks on him in the late afternoon sun.
Amy Lashley 